Traitor Lioness
by cybErdrAgOn
Summary: The House of Malfoy, where outsiders recognize their status instantly. Where only the elite are welcomed. Where honor - Slytherin honor - reigns supreme. Where the old ways still hold on, though they may just now be beginning to crumble.
1. Chapter One: A Letter

Disclaimer: Anything which you recognize as yours or of another author's is not mine, as I have borrowed liberally from many novels and fanfictions alike.

Chapter One: A Letter

It was a perfectly beautiful, ordinary summer morning that found Lucius Malfoy sitting before a polished desk, busily filling out paperwork of one sort or another. Suddenly a great horned owl swooped in through the open window and dropped a small letter on the pile of papers. Sensing instinctively that its job was not yet completed, it fell back to the safety of the windowsill and began to preen its speckled chest feathers while still keeping an eye on the lanky blond man.

After a few seconds, he reached a hand carelessly to the letter and ripped it open, having spared a glance at the address. The one glance was enough to catch the entirety of his attention: it was from a Mr. Anthony Kwan. "Well, whatever he had to say better be important," thought Lucius, "as he's interrupting business again…"

With long thin fingers he extracted the document and proceeded to read it, glaring at the messenger at the end.

_Dearest Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy:_

_As I write this, I hope I find you and your son well, for I cannot speak the same of my own family. My wife and myself have ingested a fatal poison by a disloyal servant, so I regret to tell you that our business dealings will soon be at an end. However, we have one more day, and we would like your assistance in settling our considerable properties._

_Because we have had a long partnership, I entrust you with my estate and business until the heiress comes of age. Speaking of my daughter Elaine Kwan, I have also passed on her guardianship rights due to the fact that my wife and I have no other close relations or acquaintances. She is a few months younger than your son, I believe, and at Hogwarts, I expect her to be Sorted into Gryffindor, relieving most of your parental responsibilities._

_Elaine will be arriving tomorrow at noon with our attorney, who will clarify any questions or concerns you may have. Please send the owl back with a brief response showing that you have indeed received this letter._

_We are most apologetic for any lasting inconvenience this arrangement may have caused your family, but it was the only possibility save an orphanage. I refuse to allow my heiress to spend her formative years under the guidance of Muggles, so I trust you will raise her well. Further details concerning this are enclosed in my will._

_With all due respect,_

_Anthony Kwan_

Lucius heaved a deep sigh and scrawled a few words in reply before lowering his head onto his hands. So the Kwans were as good as dead, and he would be raising their destined-for-Gryffindor daughter? It was unthinkable, could not be possible, and laughable at most, but there was always the matter of the business. He lifted his head, watching the owl fly away with the letter, and rubbed his hands together expectantly; there was nothing in the way now and no reason to regret his quick decision. What part would his wife have in the entire business anyway?

A ringing bell brought a house-elf to the door, bowing furiously, then glancing up with enormous, nervous eyes. Waving a hand carelessly, Lucius ordered, "Bring Draco to me, now." The house-elf bobbed up and down in relief and disappeared with a crack, leaving the man free once more, at least for the brief minutes before his son arrived.

Eleven-year-old Draco ran up the flights of stairs and slowed his pace to a walk just prior to entering. "Yes, father? You called?" He affixed his cool gray eyes to a point across the office, already having learned the characteristic Malfoy look. Impassive, bored, but alert. Draco Malfoy had never truly been eleven, at least not in mind and heart.

"Yes, indeed I did," replied Lucius slowly. "Do you remember Elaine Kwan? She will be arriving tomorrow and staying with us until she becomes of age. As she will almost be a member of the family, I fully expect her to be treated as one." Smiling slightly, he watched and waited for a response of any kind. Draco would not react well to another child in the house…no, he wouldn't at all.

The boy nodded just as slowly, absorbing the slight shock of it all without a noticeable change in expression. "I understand, father." Then he shifted from leg to leg, itching to be dismissed. There was a glint in his eyes that spoke of a novelty waiting to be attended to somewhere downstairs, but Lucius interrupted before he could leave.

"Tell me this," he said finally. "What House do you expect to be placed in this year?" 

"Slytherin, of course. All the Malfoys have been in it."

"That's right, absolutely right. Now Elaine will be taking our precious surname as her middle name…will she be a Gryffindor like her soon to be late parents, or a Slytherin like ourselves?"

Draco made no sound for a few moments, then answered hesitantly, "A Slytherin, of course." There was not a trace of uncertainty in his immature voice when he spoke; it seemed that once convinced, his mind would stay that way.

"Draco, you know of the Clans and the Game, do you not?" He waited for a mute nod before explaining more of the complex, highly dangerous political chess match. "The Kwans are not members, nor are they outcasts, folk on the fringe, shall we say. By adopting their daughter, she becomes a true Player in the Game…and only Slytherins even stand half a chance." Suddenly he sighed, as if to blow away all such troubles and conflicts. Draco watched with half-lidded gray eyes, making no comment until his father waved a dismissing hand. Only then did he walk away wearing the same unreadable expression as minutes, or even hours ago.

AN: Okay, that was kind of a short, crappy first chapter, but more will be coming soon. Please review if you have at all the time, as comments have always been most appreciated.


	2. Chapter Two: Meeting of Snake and Lion

Chapter Two: Meeting of Snake and Lion

"Oh Mum, Dad," whispered a girl, leaning above the beds. She brushed a strand of wispy black hair away from her unnaturally pale face and bent down farther, a single crystalline tear spilling across her cheek. "How on Earth did this happen…all the servants were so wonderful…they never would, no, they couldn't have done this…"

"Listen to me," interrupted Mrs. Kwan in a raspy, tired voice. "It doesn't matter at all now, don't you understand? Your future is what counts, because it's about you." Then she fell silent, overcome by the tremendous effort. When she rested, angry pink splotches rose to her cheeks; it was a sure sign of what would be happening soon enough.

"Your mother's right," continued Mr. Kwan. "Now, you'll be going to stay with the Malfoys because…" It hurt him deeply to speak the harsh, disgraceful truth, but Elaine, at least, deserved to know. "Because they're the closest relations, if you think about it that way, we've got. Just be a good girl, and they'll be wonderful right back."

Elaine nodded fervently, almost as if she couldn't bear to say any more. Her parents glanced at each other, then at their daughter. They held hands for the last time in a sure, strong grasp and let go after a brief moment. Before Elaine fully comprehended it, the words "Safe journey, Elaine" had fallen simultaneously from their drawn lips. And then their eyes brushed shut and slumbered in peace.

She gave her father, then her mother's hand a gentle squeeze before Hancock strode up the beds and pulled her wordlessly away from their still warm bodies. Her lips choked back furious sobs as the man led her into an empty room and held out a gleaming pocket watch. Carefully she reached out a trembling hand, and the world melted away into swirls of unbroken color she had little time to notice while she was being jerked away from a loving home to the cool, impersonal Malfoy Manor.

* * * *

The Malfoys stood side by side in the main hallway, the entire Malfoy family, like they always appeared in the presence of others. Draco had been forced into brand new, custom-tailored dress robes in preparation for their permanent guest, much to his chagrin. And so they stood, each silently spitting the same thought: She better not be late.

Suddenly Lucius disappeared with a faint pop and returned after a few minutes by way of the door. Following him were an old grandfatherly man in a Muggle business suit and of course, the girl Elaine. She had just come from the start of the funeral and was still in a straight navy blue dress, but the sad, yet appraising look on her face was unmistakable. It was by no means Gryffindor, and all true Malfoys understood. Elaine might have been fed a pack of lies about how she had inherited the traits of a lioness, but would time itself transform her into the quintessential serpent queen?

Finally Narcissa Malfoy blinked slowly, stirring the heavy lull that had settled up on them. Draco smiled, not unkindly, and extended a hand, which she unerringly accepted. "I'm Draco, and welcome to the Malfoy Manor," he drawled in a light, maddeningly calm voice, waiting for her response. 

She managed to return a smile and said, "Thank you. My name is Elaine, and it has been very kind of you to accept me in your beautiful manor." The other hand nearly flew up to her straight black hair, but as it was pulled back behind a matching hair band, there was no need to smooth it.

"Yes, yes," Lucius cut in. "So very pleased to have you as well, Mr. Hancock, no?" He too offered a hand before turning back to the two children. "Won't you join us for ah, anything you might be desiring after such a traumatic day?" Quickly he swept the man's stooped figure with the same gray eyes, taking advantage of his distraction. A most unworthy attorney, don't know how the Kwans settle anything was his initial impulse.

"Why thank you," spoke Hancock for the first time. "But I'm afraid I've got business to attend to. Feel free to owl me if there's anything the matter though." With that he tipped his head down for a moment and walked out the double doors, pausing only long enough to whisper, "Good luck, Elaine." But Elaine herself didn't turn, remaining impossibly rigid. There was no indication she had even heard the voice…except the unnoticeably steelier glistening in her almost glittering black eyes.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy turned and headed toward the parlor as soon as Hancock had left, with Draco following a few steps behind. Unsure of what was expected, Elaine lingered a few seconds longer but quickened her pace when she realized where they were all marching off to. As she walked, every picture, it seemed, chose that moment to wake up and hiss a few choice remarks about a "raven-haired girl with the Malfoys". At first she stopped whenever she heard a voice and glared at the offending portrait, which immediately pretended to fall asleep, but after the third or fourth down the frustratingly long hall, Elaine elected to keep her eyes straight ahead. If everyone or thing in this house wanted to give her a hard time…they would all be suffering quite soon.

In the cool parlor Lucius Malfoy turned to her and asked, "Would you like a cup of tea, Elaine?" His tone was none too kind, more on the borderline of condescending and accepting than anything else. Meanwhile Narcissa looked on with a silent glower whenever no one was looking; what would the other Houses think? That her husband had come home one day with his bastard daughter, no doubt. Silently she pressed her lips together and cursed her horrid plight.

"Tea will be sufficient. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy." She felt too easily the dirty looks the ice queen was sending her way every few minutes, electing not to show a response. God, the people were all the same in a Slytherin house, precisely the reason she belonged in its antithesis.

"You may address me simply as Uncle," purred Lucius, a mildly amused smirk crossing his face. "And if no one has informed you yet, your legal name is now Elaine Malfoy Kwan." He noted the uncomfortable squirm with more concealed amusement, thinking that for a little lion, there was quite a bit of potential in her mind. Quite unusual, to say the least.

"Crinky!" he called, listening afterward for the characteristic clatter followed by a being clothed in a pillowcase. The house-elf appeared, its eyes subconsciously drawn to the new girl. She was startled out of her distraction by a soft tap and looked up to Lucius.

"Bring us some tea and biscuits," the man commanded. "And don't forget sugar cubes this time."

Crinky curtsied and rushed off to the kitchens, returning with a silver platter holding four teacups filled to the rim, biscuits, a crystal cup of sugar cubes, and the teakettle in the middle. She breathed a sigh of relief as Mr. Malfoy plucked a cup from the plate and sipped deeply. It was a sign that she, at least, was free to leave.

After seeing "Uncle" take tea, Elaine pushed aside her doubts and took a cup herself. Suddenly the years of learning how to act when there was company flooded her mind, so her fingers barely grazed the handle as she lifted it to pale lips. 

Lucius watched her discreetly with pleasure; evidently the girl had had etiquette lessons before, so she wouldn't be a total disgrace at any parties hosted by some of his affluent friends. Yet it was such a redundant phrase: could his friends ever be considered anything other than affluent?

He chose not to offer condolences since Elaine had probably been filled to the brim with false sympathies, instead mentioning casually to his family, "Don't you think Elaine will be wonderful in the years to come?" Narcissa glared at him again, apparently outraged by the mere thought, while Elaine rolled her eyes. It only elicited another dirty look.

Unfazed by his wife's less-than-delighted response, Lucius continued, "As you may already know, there are a few rules in our house. For one, my office on the second floor is strictly off limits, as is the master bedroom…actually, everything but the bedrooms, library, and the first floor is restricted. Of course, you may do some reading before term starts, I have nearly any book you might desire."

"Yes…Uncle. I understand." She finished her tea neatly and stood up from the leather couch. "Would you be so kind as to show me my bedroom?" she asked, shifting her clear gaze from one to the other.

Draco immediately rose to his feet on a slight nod from his parents and took long strides down the hall. "Follow me." Quietly Elaine slipped up the staircases after him, trying desperately to ignore the tittering paintings. A Malfoy was a Malfoy and would always be a Malfoy…but these people didn't seem too bad yet, did they?

She found herself at the end of the hall wondering where the boy had gone when she heard his voice to the right. Turning around, there was a door that somehow her sharp eyes had missed before, and she turned the handle and pushed in, oblivious to the creaking hinges and the rays of violet light…

AN: Well that was longer than the previous chapter, and hopefully a little better as well. I quite like little Elaine so far: innocent and naïve, but not stupid; quiet and observant, yet spirited. As far as plot goes, I'm still in the open, but I believe this fanfiction will be in two parts, before and up to the Sorting and their sixth year.

I just edited this for spelling and grammatical errors…so review please, and if you have time, read my other stories too!

-cybErdrAgOn


	3. Chapter Three: Shattered Innocence

Chapter Three: Shattered Innocence

She found herself at the end of the hall wondering where the boy had gone when she heard his voice to the right. Turning around, there was a door that somehow her sharp eyes had missed before, and she turned the handle and pushed in, oblivious to the creaking hinges and the rays of violet light…

There was no other response from within the room, so Elaine cracked open the door farther and slipped a tiny foot in, then the other, taking careful steps as so not to alert any of the Malfoys. An odd little smile alighted on her face; she was exhilarated, for once, to look around and see. Seeing was not being dragged around and forcing one's eyes upon a sight, nor was it casting baleful gazes at a hateful object. Rather, it meant soaking in subtly delightful views, one of which was fluorescent purple beams of light emanating from a point in the center of the otherwise darkened room.

No curtains or drapes were blocking the sunlight simply because there were no windows. No person dragged her back simply because no one dared to venture so deep within the Malfoy Manor. And Elaine still ignored all instincts and pressed through the empty room void of life. 

She was not foolhardy, nor stupid, but innocent enough to know no evil or harm. Instead of blanching with fright, her china features became flushed with anticipation of what could possibly be found in such a mysterious chamber, the likes of which she did not remember seeing the likes of before. Her hands groped for a handhold in the black stillness but found none, and she drew closer to the light.

A soft gasp left her lips as Elaine gazed upon the small circular table in the center of the room. It rested on four clawed legs; its surface looked to be both highly polished and breathtakingly ancient. And there was a jar on the table-a large glass jar that radiated a cool amethyst light. It held no warmth but drew the girl ever closer, her eyes glazed over slightly as she walked like she was entranced. 

When she stood before the jar and managed to garner the last of her natural observance to look more carefully into its brilliantly glowing contents, she stepped back and swayed on her feet unsteadily, reaching out two frantically clawing hands. Finding nothing to hold onto, Elaine collapsed to the ground with a muffled thump with an expression of true fear, for the first time, on her face.

* * * * *

An expression of boredom showed plainly through the mask of politeness on Draco's face as he gestured lazily at the four-poster bed and waited for a response of any kind. Hearing none, he turned around slowly, eyes flashing annoyance, to see nothing. No one was there except his own reflection in the ornamented mirror.

"My dear, you should really keep your ears and eyes open more," a voice murmured dreamily, but Draco merely scowled, prompting it to continue, "And that pout doesn't suit you at all."

"Oh, be quiet," he muttered darkly, stepping out into the hall and shutting the door. "Try telling that to Elaine—and where did that little Gryffindor run off to?" He flicked gray eyes down the empty expanse and saw not a shadow, not even a house-elf. Shooting a glare behind him, he strolled down to the end, turning at every open and closed door, willing the stupid little kid to show up soon. Or else.

Draco stopped just short of the last door, mentally begging himself to reconsider the scene before him. The light, the open door, it was all just a mirage. Deep breaths, Draco. It's not real.

But it was all too real, he soon discovered, and what was worse was that Elaine had somehow wandered in. He heard something hit the ground softly and had to exert a large amount of self-control to refrain from running in and either laughing or gawking at her. The room…it held the secret to the Veil, secrets that only a Malfoy could wield. Oh Lady, she better not have touched anything yet, or not even the heir of the manor could get her out…

Summarizing the reasons to walk in inside his head, he took a deep breath and plucked a vial from the wall just behind the doorway. It contained a bubbling crimson red liquid; a single drop would be enough. Draco carefully pulled out the stopper and tilted it over his right hand, allowing it to leave a tiny splatter of a substance similar to sticky water on his palm. Next he smeared it across his hand in the shape of the Malfoy seal and replaced the vial. Father would be displeased to find out about this entire "incident": now there was a perfectly good reason not to go running to him for help.

Crossing his pointed face was a grim smile that quickly disappeared as he prepared to invoke the deep lines of magic that no eleven-year-old, hell, no adult wizard, even, should have ever been forced to know or learn. The only reason the Ministry hadn't been onto the illicit activities yet was because the family had had a tremendous amount of influence behind the Atrium, and largely because their philanthropic efforts had given the Ministry financial support. Whenever something like this happened, they turned aside and let it slip. Draco wasn't even sure if the Malfoy Manor could be monitored, given all the security precautions generations and generations had placed upon it.

He pulled a stained hand across an area a few feet beyond the door, almost appearing to draw back a heavy curtain between himself and the source of the light. Then, walking in head held high, he waved his other hand as if to close the curtain and block the entrance. And in front of him…in front of him was the jar holding the skull of Torvald Linus Malfoy floating eerily in a translucent purple liquid. It bobbed up and down in salute, then seemed to open its mouth in a fiendish cackle. 

Draco shuddered involuntarily and shifted his sharp gaze to the girl lying on the floor. Good, she still had a pulse. That was more than should be expected, especially when her eyes fluttered open for the briefest of moments and met his suddenly soft, dove gray eyes before shrinking back and slipping into unconsciousness. Shaking his head, he pondered what to do now that he was in the most dangerous of secret chambers with a ten-year-old girl who had never been in the Manor before. Oh, of course. She couldn't stand up on her own feet either.

After a furious mental conflict, he stooped down and wrapped his hands around her waist and half-dragged, half-carried Elaine's limp body out of the room, remembering to seal it off. An audible sigh of relief and exhaustion escaped from his lips just as she woke up and rose to her feet. "Oh, Draco, what exactly was that?" Her voice had none of its previous childish curiosity, only fear and a pressing need to understand, to know.

"That, Elaine, shall I call you, was a place you will never go into. Again." Draco shot dagger-glares at her to emphasize his point before relenting and cursing himself for being so uncharacteristically friendly today. "Fine. Your room's down this way," he began walking inside, "and your trunks have already been brought up. Though I must say that there's not much inside, is there?" A blond eyebrow twitched upward as he cocked his head in gently mocking questioning.

She nodded for what seemed like the hundredth time in one day and replied, "Thanks, it's because I had to come so quickly. There wasn't really time to pack anything other than clothing…"

"Never mind your dresses," he snapped brusquely, cutting off her soft voice easily. "Tell me right here, right now that you will _never_ walk into that room again."

"I promise." Wide, concerned eyes raised their gaze to a point over his head and out the window when she spotted the hint of…oh gosh, what was that?

Draco caught her line of vision and subtly but forcefully steered it away from his now brown-smudged hands. Wordlessly he stood up from the bed and crossed the bedroom in three long strides before turning and surveying it for the first real time. It wasn't half ugly, he was forced to admit, but Elaine, she wouldn't be delighted from what he had already heard about her, merely accepting. 

The walls were colored an off-white that matched perfectly with teal drapes, an eccentric but not unpleasing mixture of royal blue and emerald green. Similarly colored were the hangings about the four-poster bed nearly the same as Draco's own, only smaller and more delicately carved. A dresser and desk lined the wall beside the bed, the light shining dully off polished cherry wood, and opposite them was an empty bookshelf. Apparently whoever had decorated it had assumed that she would find literature to be soothing, inspiring, whatever the reason to have a constant supply.

"Good." There was certain finality in his tone that made it impossible for Elaine to interject, and he continued in much the same way. "Make yourself comfortable, unpack, whatever. I've got to go do something, so if you want anything, just call for the house-elf with the bell here." Then he strolled out of the room calmly, leaving the girl staring at his retreating back.

As Draco headed toward the bathroom in his own chambers, Narcissa Malfoy gazed up from her vantage point on the spiral staircase and smiled a cold, devious smile…

AN: So how was that? I actually had it written a long, long time ago and just decided to publish it….

Please review, I tried to get rid of any mistakes or inconsistencies but I'm no goddess and am therefore allowed mistakes.

l8er, 

-cybErdragOn


	4. Chapter Four: Dawn of Reality

Chapter Four: Dawn of Reality

As she sat on her bed, fidgeting slightly with the hem of her plain dress, Elaine felt for the first time a jolt of worry. Though Draco had only been gone for a few minutes, the silence threatened to crush her soul. She did not belong in this mansion at all.

So she sat on her bed primly and affixed her gaze to the door, willing it to open and the boy to walk back soon, the sooner the better. Presently the door creaked open and Elaine hopped off the bed cheerfully to look up into the cool gray eyes of Lucius Malfoy. They were expressionless as ever, but his anger could be sensed in the surrounding air. His thin, aristocratic hands gripped her shoulders with surprising strength and shook her back and forth vigorously.

"I trust you have learned not to do that again, my darling niece?" he whispered, lowering himself until their eyes were but inches apart and Elaine could smell the expensive cologne sprayed tastefully on his body. She nodded with tears nearly spilling out of her eyes, and Lucius released her.

"Excellent." He clicked his teeth and flashed a hungry smile. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some unattended business to finish with my son Draco. Simply…wait here, and he'll be back shortly." Lucius Malfoy was never one to dawdle, and he turned on his heel and strode out, closing the door softly behind him.

Ten minutes later, Draco flung himself into her bedroom and glared at her with the anger of an eleven-year-old, but an eleven-year-old who had had many chances to learn to be expressive. His slick blond hair was ruffled, which he hurriedly tried to smooth as he spoke.

"Well then, I suppose you're learned."

Elaine bit her lip and returned the glare. "Would someone in this house please tell me what I supposedly learned? You, your father, all so cryptic," she muttered darkly.

"And this is but the beginning. Elaine, don't forsake us—instead, learn who we are." Draco smirked, allowing a bit of the practiced snake to show through. "But to answer your question, simply don't prod in things that aren't your business. If you don't listen, you're going to get yourself killed someday." He shrugged indifferently and continued, "You're in the Game now, so do act like it."

"What Game?" she asked curiously, but Draco was nearly out of the room by then. Nevertheless, he turned around and cocked a blond brow.

"You don't know of the Game? Then I suppose Father will tell you soon…just don't go wandering around any more. It's not for you," he added with a touch of finality.

"Fine then. I have nothing more to ask," Elaine imitated his condescending tone.

"Of course not. I would hardly expect you to pick up on the intricacies of Malfoy life." He slipped out the door and shut it firmly.

Elaine sighed and wandered to the chair that had been conveniently placed by the writing desk, running a hand through her dark hair, thinking deeper thoughts than she ever had before. Her parents—loving, but now dead—had not explained this much, but she doubted that they did not know of it. Was it an attempt to protect her? Or simply mere oversight?

Whatever the reason, she smiled in much the same manner as Draco Malfoy and swore, childishly, perhaps, that it would not take her down…

* * * * *

The next morning dawned bright and clear, awakening Elaine with a blood red sunrise that managed to filter through heavy velvet drapes. She rolled off her bed drowsily and stepped into the shower, letting the warm droplets of water untangle raven locks. By the time her head felt fully awake and she had finished, a house-elf had sent up a plain white shirt, a pair of semi-casual black pants, and a wizarding robe. Initially she was grateful for the comfortable dress, until a cursory glance at the robes found that they were emblazoned with the crest of the Malfoys, a surprisingly intricate silver dragon underlined with the motto _Abs fortitudo redire dicio; abs dicio, periculum_. 

With strength comes power; with power, danger.

A shiver rose up her spine that was irrelevant to the warmth and humidity of the bathroom adjoining her bedroom. The seal offered her a glimpse of what life would be like, and even her extreme youth and innocence could not shield her from the facts. Worse yet, so it seemed, was that she stood as a follower of such motto. Draco had been correct.

She strolled down the stairs and into the spacious kitchen. Though the sun had not yet passed the line of trees, the entire blond Malfoy family was already seated around a smaller table that was generally used for ordinary occasions. Lucius Malfoy skimmed a newspaper as he ate, but on closer inspection, it bore no resemblance to the Daily Prophet. Mrs. Malfoy, however, contented herself by looking like the fastidious snow queen as she had yesterday. But she didn't really need to try; the whole family looked the same.

"Good morning," Elaine smiled brightly and plucked a slice of toast from the platter, then took a sip from the steaming brown liquid inside a china mug. Her expression immediately changed from perky to uncomfortable as she wrinkled her nose comically and forced herself to swallow. 

Poison…

No, she reminded herself, it wasn't poison, because the house-elves served them and they wouldn't poison an insect. Unless their masters asked them to do so…highly unlikely. She was still alive.

It brought a smile to Draco's face, and he responded coolly, "Good morning to as well. Is this your first time drinking coffee?"

Lucius folded the newspaper with barely a crinkle and locked eyes with his son. "If you've finished breakfast," he nodded dismissively, "both of you, we're going for a ride over the estates today." 

Without a moment of hesitation to supposedly finish their drinks, Elaine and Draco both stood and trotted after his tall but elegant figure that filled the hallway with a mere presence. Nothing physical, but Lucius Malfoy exuded power and control wherever he chose to walk and sneer at the minions below. Even in his own family, he was indisputably a leader, and a strong one at that.

The stone path leading to the stables was obviously ancient but still well maintained. Elaine fell into the rhythm of clicking heels on granite, allowing herself to smell the airy, sweet scent of dew on the lawns. Nearing the end of the path, soft whinnies floated on the breeze, as did the rushing footsteps of a harried groom snapping to attention just outside the barn's door.

Lucius took no attention of the servant except to lazily command, "Take out our personal mounts, and…" He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "The black foal for the girl." 

Hastily the young man bowed and ducked under the roof; the nickering grew louder until he emerged a few minutes later holding the leather reins of three magnificent horses that pawed the ground and tossed their manes nervously. Elaine gasped softly; out of the shadows, the sunlight gleamed on their feathery wings and their powerful muscles that rippled just beneath the skin. Though they were not shod like ordinary horses, the groom had fitted each with a polished leather saddle and a braided, impeccably clean bridle. Two were palominos, with a coat the color of purest buttercup yellow and a long, silky ivory-colored mane and tail. They looked like father and son, two powerful stallions, and one only a few inches taller than the other. But the third, flicking its ebony black tail, trailed the golden horses like a diminutive black shadow. It was young and energetic and more than enough for Elaine to handle.

Draco smirked at her expression of awe. "Yes, _winged_ horses," he answered her unspoken comment softly. With a practiced grace, he sprang lightly onto the smaller palomino's back. "Come on, surely you've ridden before?"

Of course she had taken weekend excursions into the countryside astride a lazy, obedient mount, but these horses had wings and were going to fly. Elaine didn't bother to reply, since she occupied herself well scrambling to grab onto a handful of mane so that the rest of her could follow. The horse's small but regal head tossed upward suddenly and nearly pitched her off, but she managed to throw a leg over and find a balancing point.

They rose into the air surprisingly smoothly for such a short distance, and Elaine relaxed her stiff posture. Higher up, the breezes were much stronger, whipping at the sleeves of her robes and ruffling her hair until the previously neat cascade fell around her shoulders with the individual strands sticking out in every direction. The Malfoys, however, retained the immaculate, aristocratic bearing they radiated while standing on solid ground. She rolled her eyes and nudged her horse forward to move into a straight line with the father and son pair.

"I'm going to call you Raven," she suddenly whispered, leaning into the horse's delicately arched neck.

It beat its great black wings faster until Elaine was at the end of the row. She glanced down then and saw patches of various hues of green interspersed with white, which she knew to be buildings. Farther to the left, the reline loomed dark and stormy, as though it denied any visitors who even chanced to walk there. To the right, mists and swirling vapors obscured her sight. 

From the air, the ground was beautiful, and the same held true vice versa.

A prickling sensation arose on the back of her neck; it was the feeling of cool gray eyes boring into skin. Elaine turned, and Mr. Malfoy hovered above her. "The Malfoy estates," he drawled in a voice barely above the rustle of the lush leaves on tree branches. "From the cliff and the Arch," an expensively robed arm snaked out to the right, "and extending halfway into the forests." 

"The Arch has quite a long history of its own," continued Lucius Malfoy as the horses took advantage of a soaring updraft to glide on their wide wings. "It was built two thousand years ago by our ancestor Caius Malfoy when he established these lands as properties of the Malfoy Kin, head of the Gentis Apexis, the High Peoples. In those dark ages, magic was a highly prized gift…one that many would gladly kill for. And though Caius was one of the most talented wizards—or should I say most talented," he chuckled humorlessly, "he was of sufficient intelligence to deem that a method of preventing unauthorized entry to his private grounds must be devised. Hence the Arch of the Malfoy."

He paused and appeared to be examining the cuffs of his robes, but when he lifted his gaze, those gray eyes were thoughtful and focused. "A slight difficulty comes to mind, Elaine. One needs to join in the Blood Ritual to enter without another to open the doorway…and I am afraid that you shall be coming and going far too frequently to spare a Malfoy to usher you in." A hard smile formed on his chiseled face. "I truly hope that you are not, shall we say, offended, by blood-letting…"

Elaine swallowed and shuddered in the saddle, causing Raven to raise her front hooves sharply. She ran a hand over the horse's neck and straightened. "No, I am not," she replied, which was far from the truth. Blood magic. Elaine Kwan, Auror's daughter, would be participating in illegal Dark magic. It was unthinkable, yet she found that she was already morbidly fascinated by the art of adding human blood to increase the potency of a spell or potion…so long it was not hers.

They circled the Malfoy estate slowly, Draco and Lucius both occasionally pointing out distinctive or important features of their properties. An hour later, the horses flew closer together until she could hear a whisper clearly, even above the winds.

"Now," purred the elder Malfoy, "I believe time has come to give you a brief overview of what has made life worth living when circumstances are bleak for centuries…it is time to tell you of the Game…"

AN: This was definitely a more interesting chapter to write, but frankly, after spending the whole day working on it, I have no opinion whatsoever. So tell me what you think, any kind of review is welcome!

l8er,

-cybErdragOn


	5. Chapter Five: The Visitor

Chapter Five: The Visitor

Two pairs of eyes came to rest on the unnerving calm that was Lucius Malfoy's face, two pairs of strikingly different eyes. One reflected sunlight in shots of piercing gray, and the other simply caught the light until deep amber streaks glinted in pools of dark brown. But they held the same curiosity, the same hungry desire to know what was to be said, although the blond haired boy masked his eagerness much more thoroughly.

Lucius smiled almost benevolently at the small figures flanking him on either side, for he was rather pleased that they cared about the future that was theirs to inherit. His Draco, of course, was required to know more and to accomplish more in a shorter period of time; as the heir of the Malfoy, all of the estates, the business, and most importantly of all, the prestige, the honors, the responsibilities would be his in due time. The girl Elaine showed a great deal of promise as well, though she seemed to refuse to accept the twist in her path and embrace the years ahead. She was an heiress, quite simply, and while they were uncommon, Lucius had often found them to be strong and powerful—as long as they held on to what was rightfully theirs from the start.

He rubbed his smooth chin thoughtfully and contemplated on where to start. Draco already knew the general meaning of his explanations, but it was likely that Elaine had never heard them before, not even in mentioning. Finally, he chose to begin at the beginning and nodded curtly, indicating that he was ready to start.

"The Gentis Apexis, of which Caius Malfoy was the leader, was a group of elite, powerful wizards determined to instill stability and peace for the common people and to increase their own fortitude simultaneously. Originally, they numbered twelve, in addition to the Caesar, and their names were?" he suddenly fired at Draco.

"Zabini, Montigne, Snape, Stuart, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Enwyon, Wellington, Black, McCallum, Raine, and Strathmor," replied Draco smoothly. It was a well-rehearsed answer, for which Lucius gave him barely a nod.

"That is correct; they established many of the institutions that influence today's day-to-day affairs…and the centuries between can be found in the Malfoy histories, which I am sure you will read, Elaine."

"They wanted the best for the world, but so long as they benefited most. The Game arose when their affairs came into contact with each other and quickly became the greatest struggle the wizarding community has ever seen. More important than the Dark Lord, for his reign will pass. More influential than that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore, for he is a man. Indeed, the Game will live on," he smiled, "and it will live in the Malfoy Kin until eternity has passed."

Elaine widened her eyes, unable to imagine how something could be so old, yet so strong. "But what exactly is the Game?" she burst out uncontrollably, stiffening as glares of knives rested upon her.

"Patience, Elaine," said Lucius, a hint of a threat laced in his voice. "As I had stated before, the Game is not to be trifled with, and what you must understand is that the estates, the lands, the peoples will always come foremost. I myself as a man am unimportant; likewise, my son Draco is the same. But we preserve the honor of the Malfoy to our best efforts, and may we succeed in our attempts."

His eyes shone with quick passion for a brief moment before they cooled and narrowed once more. "For the ordinary Player, the Game is but a passing concern in their lives. But Malfoy is more—they are of the Gentis Apexis, the rulers of the elite whom most common wizards do not know of. We are bound to our fates, Elaine, though personally, I have never been one to believe in fate." Lucius leaned forward, driving his horse on just a bit faster until the trio was racing the breezes. Finally he drew to a halt and continued, but more carefully.

"The Players battle for power with silent, calculating moves, each of which holds a secret meaning to be deciphered. They are unafraid to utilize all forces necessary, though careful not to waste their power and influence, mentioning not fortunes as well. And while lives, names, and money is to be lost, that and more can be gained. Hence skill in the Game is the most important skill you will ever learn."

Cutting off Elaine's open mouth with a dismissive wave, Lucius glanced at his watch briefly before suddenly breaking into a low chuckle. "And you wish to know how this concerns you, am I not correct? You are an heiress, and you have become a Malfoy. What has not concerned your family before," his tone crackled with electricity, "is now of the utmost importance. Dear niece, you are a Player from this day forward…"

His mouth twisted into a sneer directed towards no one in particular, but Elaine and Draco both shrank back.

"And losing is simply not an option."

* * *

The smooth, powerful breathing of Solaris, Lucius' winged horse, fell into a steady rhythm as they continued on a circle around the Malfoy estates, Lucius interjecting a fact or two about the land, the people, and the Game occasionally. Forests and pastures passed beneath them, vitality and growth emanating from their tips. The Malfoy estates were tranquil like none other in the early morning, mostly because Lucius had taken great pains to ensure it.

Insistent beeping interrupted their ride, and the expensive silver watch encircling his wrist explained the inconvenient scenario quickly. Mentally, he growled a curse at the acquaintance that refused to allow a weekend to be spent in peace.

"There's a visitor waiting at the Arch, so Draco, Elaine, return to the manor and wait in the parlor."

They nodded and reined their horses in, Elaine following Draco since he recognized the landmarks that led them back to the house. Solaris tilted his great head at the retreating pair, deep brown eyes slightly anxious at allowing them to return alone. His rider tapped him lightly on the wither, reminding the horse to steady its mind and focus on its task. Horses were like children; they needed to be trained if they were to accomplish anything of use.

Once fog had engulfed their mounts, Lucius alighted onto a stone path and untangled his fingers from the bridle before ushering Solaris back to the stables. Then he too disappeared, to Apparate by the entrance to the Malfoy lands. The visitor could only bring news, and good news and bad news were undifferentiated by the impartial mind.

* * *

The Arch of the Malfoy was nothing less than its name implied, a towering stone miracle of what appeared to be Muggle engineering, but held upright by powerful enchantments. Inscribed upon the keystone were lines of silvery writing warning the would-be intruder that had not faded despite the centuries passed. Neither had the usefulness of its protection, for the Malfoy Kin needed its powers more than ever, rather than less.

It stood at the very edge of a cliff facing the east, only materializing for those who were worthy of its presence. That meant only for those who were joined with the Malfoy…and joined by blood. Others felt the hum of the very air but saw nothing except a clear blue sky and the ribbon of water snaking through the rift below. And this particular cliff had the same qualities as most, especially if any attempted to enter the Arch unguided and found himself with a foot off the ground.

A tall figure stood before the entrance, waiting for the appearance of Mr. Malfoy. He smiled, but not openly as commoners were wont, and nor did he extend a hand in greeting. Lucius returned his shadowed expression without any trace of awkwardness.

"Long times have passed since the Roucieux has visited Malfoy lands," he said carelessly, not bothering to face the man.

"Yes, and even longer since the Malfoy has journeyed to the Roucieux estates," replied André Jaures Roucieux. He folded his arms across his chest, allowing the expensive black robes to fall about them expertly. There was a faint glow emitting from the inside of the Arch and from the now visible runic symbols running through its edges, and Lucius stepped back.

"Guests first," he gestured with the faintest of smirks. André ignored him and strode through the entrance. What had previously been the other side of the Arch, when viewed from outside the estates, flashed a stunning metallic light before swallowing him up. Lucius followed but first placed a hand on the barely visible indentation on the darkest stone, sending tiny vibrations up and down the ground. He visualized the manor in all of its late summer glory, and he appeared with André on the front steps as quickly as if they had Apparated. Of course, it was impossible to Apparate on the Land after the Arch unless one had performed a spell with one of the family; even then, only select areas could be accessed.

Flicking an invisible speck of dust off his sleeves, André entered the Malfoy manor with the greeting of one of many resident house-elves and paused before walking farther inside. Lucius shut the ornate French doors behind them and led his guest into the parlor, where two children were lounging on the leather sofas. Upon his appearance, they immediately slid off the couches and stood, composed and focused, all that he expected whenever there were visitors.

"It's good to meet your son, Lucius," he said in a rich baritone. "And it's a pleasure to see you, Draco, after so many years."

"Thank you, but the pleasure's mine, Mr. Roucieux," greeted Draco. "Uncle," he added as an afterthought, remembering that his uncle appreciated a reminder that he was indeed connected to the Malfoys.

Mr. Roucieux offered a light smile to the blond boy. "Surely, I have not been at this wonderful house for six years. So much has changed…" He trailed off and gazed at Elaine, and Lucius recognized the look. But of course, he had considered this possibility; he had always considered all possibilities.

"Elaine _Malfoy _Kwan," he interjected smoothly, "the heiress of Anthony and Sophia Kwan, who has come into my custody by their will."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Roucieux."

He froze with a stunned expression on his face for a moment, which then broke into a thoughtful look. "The same, Elaine," was his only quiet reply.

Lucius tapped a booted foot on the polished oaken floors. "Draco, Elaine, please leave now. We have business matters to discuss." Elaine trotted off obediently upstairs, but Draco exchanged a flicker of the eyes before exiting the parlor. _He is uncertain, _interpreted the elder Malfoy, _but that will have to be. Nothing is certain any more._

He led André into a private office shooting off from the parlor and motioned for him to take a seat before striding over to the antique chair opposite the table between them. Long, bold steps swallowed up the space between the door and the wall, a purposeful gait that gave a quick glimpse of what living in opulence and confronting the world alone had developed. It was the essence of the Gentis Apexis, and confidence and power were closely linked together.

"So wonderful to see you again," Lucius drawled, searching his brother-in-law's face for a trace of discontent. "How have Laelia and your children been?"

"Quite fine, thank you. Alec will be entering Hogwarts this year, along with Draco." He spoke stiffly, as if he wanted to say more but could not. Then he continued, "May I cut through the formalities now," a long, deliberate pause, "and simply ask why this girl has suddenly appeared?"

André Roucieux, though neither a true Malfoy nor a member of the Apexi Kin, stood at the same height as Lucius Malfoy; on his strong chin and straight nose was displayed the same power of mind and will, but less overt than Lucius. Light green eyes streaked with hazel were typically calm and thoughtful, rather than angry, but now, they radiated confusion. He clasped his hands together and placed them on the edge of the table, focusing all energies into obtaining the truth from his, could one believe it, his brother-in-law. Even though they rarely saw each other, the two men were related by law, and thus, he felt the right to know about such large happenings. Lucius would come out with a story eventually—he always had when they were younger and needed a confidante. Age did not always slice through bonds, and theirs was a tight one indeed. It involved more than friendship and more than years gone by, drawing both into a whirlpool of no escape.

The air fairly crackled with tension, and Lucius and his longtime friend faced each other grimly. Someone—a family friend, a business acquaintance—had once informed them that together, they cut down any opposition in their path. But today, if a debilitating argument erupted, proverbial castles would come crashing down as fire flew between them.


	6. Chapter Six: Divided by Circumstance

Chapter Six: Divided by Circumstance

They were eye to eye, nose to nose, even when an entire expanse of table stretched between the two men. Neither dared to move or breathe until they had reached a silent truce, at which time both sat back in their chairs simultaneously. But the restless hands and stiff backs spoke a story beyond either friendship or hatred. It was pride that drove them, and it would be pride that settled it.

Finally, André Roucieux nodded.

"Lucius, let us speak as members of the Kinship. As men," he added quietly, "not feuding enemies."

"As you wish, André."

He recognized that mocking, wary undercurrent in the man's voice but continued, "Then answer me—who is she?"

"She is Elaine," Lucius replied noncommittally. It was such a simple answer, yet it answered nothing.

"Elaine…"

"Elaine Malfoy Kwan, the daughter of Anthony and Sophia Kwan."

André paused to reflect. If Elaine were the daughter of the Kwans, whom he had briefly met years earlier, she would be with family. In fact, he questioned in his mind, had they even ever had a child? He would not be fooled _this_ time, not by that perfect golden brother of his wife with a cold stone heart. Although first son in the Roucieux family was by no means a bad position, the Malfoy, the strong, cunning aristocratic Malfoy, was of another class. Yet nor did he wish for the fall of the old rulers; if it did occur, a period of chaos would then occur, severely weakening the Apexi, which was responsible for many of the affairs that concerned wizarding folk.

No, it was better to leave Lucius be, for now.

"Really, my cousin," he said, using the expression to refer to all relations not bound by blood, "why did you inconvenience yourself?"

"The will."

"But wills can be changed." André rubbed his chin and thought back to that of his own father. The old bloke had seemed to forget to amend it over the years…but he had been quite pleased to oblige.

Lucius concealed a note of irritation at his bluntness. "So, if you will, tell me why I would have troubled myself further with that option?"

Then a pause, before the next sentence.

"André, I'm afraid you may be losing your touch."

"So you have relations with Elaine?" It was a statement, not a question, that left his voice steadily rising with suspicions just lying beneath the surface. True enough, Lucius was cunning, but that idiot wife of his seemed to influence men with her whining, nagging presence, and always for the worse. Oh yes, he saw through her beautiful face, cold as it was, to the icy core. She would leave him at a second's notice if she suspected, which meant that she knew nothing. He chose to ignore any subtle references to his break from ritual; how did the Malfoy have such accursed _patience _to deal with it?

"Perhaps, perhaps not." Lucius narrowed his eyes to dark slits. "First of all, before you ask such questions, ask yourself if she even so much looks the part." He envisioned slender, quiet, naïve Elaine with her angular, winged cheekbones so uncommon to the Asians. Then he pictured her five, ten years later, dark eyes hiding a blazing inferno. "She will become a credit, however—the heiress, the stunning, the brilliant. And no doubt, with a bit more discipline in her upbringing, she will succeed. But is that all?"

André willed himself to relax at the sight of those shaded glares of contained energy. He had witnessed the power of the Malfoy, or at least believed that he had. But every time he saw his brother-in-law yet another facet of his inner self was revealed. He had the façade, the steely nerve, and the cool, calm rationale for everything. All that was missing was true passion, and he had never witnessed a moment when Lucius lost control.

Offering a casual smile, he replied, "No, not at all. However, business does await us…and what do you think of the recent stock trends? Will they affect our marketing to market?"

So their talk shifted gratefully from personal matters to a subject of mutual interest, as well as for the same reasons. They spoke of their joint corporation, and its ups and downs, and how hindsight could be transformed into working knowledge that would propel earnings up, up, higher than ever before in a single quarter. How, despite that the Malfoy lands were separated from the wizarding world, it was so close in twisting, binding its affairs. How the majority of people never did realize that their lives were dictated by men of power.

* * *

Elaine and Draco had retreated to their bedrooms at the arrival of this family friend, where Elaine now sat with a pensive look upon her face and bounced her feet in tiny circles. What else was there to do in this beautiful, open mansion? A Saturday, nonetheless, she thought with a longing smile, the sort of Saturday that she would have spent floating down a river on a flat-bottomed houseboat…a Saturday of ice cream and piggyback rides, not horses and discussions about the state of the rich Malfoys.

The stupid rich Malfoys.

She walked over to the clean, beautiful desk, same as the rest of the house, found a sheet of parchment and quills, and poised her hand above the paper, ready to let ink flow from the sharp nib of the quill. Touching its point to the creamy parchment, Elaine began to work on a drawing of Raven the horse, liberally scrawling the hairs of the mane and tail, leaving light for the eyes with a careful precision. Finally she surveyed her masterpiece and frowned.

The head was too small, the wings too bold, and a myriad of other faults simply ruined the whole picture. Elaine scowled at the baleful eyes of her horse before seizing it and crumpling it into a ball. Somehow there was a kind of angry delight in destruction, though she knew perfectly well that it was junk. Pure junk.

Then the door creaked open, and she instantly jumped out of her seat and stared into a pair of light blue eyes. Narcissa Malfoy, the wife of Lucius and her new "aunt" had decided to pay her a visit, and her features sparkled craftily. Still, thought Elaine, she was a beautiful woman as well—for that matter, everything here was beautiful like her own house had never been.

"Hello, Aunt," she finally smiled after a few moments.

"Oh, don't let me bother you," Narcissa tilted her chin up slightly. "I've just come to make sure that you've been adjusting, after all." She crossed the space to the writing desk and wrinkled her nose at the ball of parchment before picking it up and smoothing out the creases. "Now, this will never do," an annoyed, scornful expression flitted over her perfect full mouth, "ruining things when you're angry. Think of all the valuables that could be destroyed."

"Yes, Aunt Narcissa," replied Elaine softly.

"You do know, however," Narcissa whispered tauntingly, "that Uncle Lucius and myself can get you anything…anything at all that you want? Drawing pencils, perhaps? Or a new dress?" She waved a hand and laughed, resuming her queen-like air within a heartbeat. "As a member of the family, _darling_, find yourself _entitled_ to it."

With smooth, quick steps, she stepped from corner to corner, resting her disdainful eyes on every inch of the room that she had helped to decorate. When it became apparent to Elaine that she found nothing but fault, she opened her mouth to speak. Suddenly the blond woman turned and left, almost as if repulsed by her mere words that were sure to come. Well, whatever the reason, it was better than having her around.

But boredom eventually set in, and Elaine paced the room until she realized that Draco would probably have an idea or two. He always seemed to have ideas, after all, and he was used to life in this strange mansion, no, castle. She trotted down the hallway, curiously peering into the open doorways, but did not open any that were closed. The room with the skull had reinforced that lesson.

Just as she was ready to give up, Draco Malfoy stuck his head out of the door and glared at her calmly, at which point she turned and glared right back. "Well, there's nothing to do," Elaine finally stated with a matter-of-fact tone, folding her arms across her chest.

"Then find something to do," replied Draco, turning his attention back inside his bedroom.

She heaved a sigh and shook her head. "I said there's nothing to do!"

"Well, get used to it," he shrugged, "since nothing's going to change now or tomorrow."

Elaine stepped backward involuntarily and bit her lip. She refused to consider, even for a second, that Draco was unwilling to entertain her. People wanted to help other people…especially if they were young, quiet, and "adorable". _Like me_, she thought angrily.

"What have you been doing?" she asked, changing tack abruptly. Something about that slightly upturned mouth told her that he did not act with the same warmth and kindness that she was accustomed to, but surely he did react to something.

Draco scowled with ineffectively concealed impatience. "Come in, then," he rolled his eyes, "and stop bothering everyone."

"How did you know that Aunt came in?"

He turned and forced her to meet his already steely gaze. "I am the Malfoy heir," he said with annoying superiority, "and nothing happens here with those who are not Malfoy that I do not know about." Draco wandered over to his desk and spread his hand over the opened books. "This, my cousin, is what I have been doing."

Mouth gaping unabashedly, Elaine followed his fingers silently and wondered how someone her own age could be accomplishing so much. _Politics _and _Academy_, in the original Greek, lay there, and neat, elegant script filled half a sheet of parchment. She assumed it was Draco's own handwriting but continued to imagine how deadly strict Uncle must have been.

As if reading her mind, Draco said lightly, "Father wants me to be well versed in all the aspects of ruling the Kin, and you ought to get a head start on some of these readings. How many languages are you fluent in, by the way?"

"English, some Latin, some French, and Chinese, of course. But I haven't ever read anything like _that_ yet."

He walked over to the bookshelf by his bed and pulled out a leather-bound book, carelessly allowing light from the window to gleam off the gilded letters. Elaine accepted it cautiously and burst out, "Aren't I going to damage this?"

Draco stifled a grin. "Magically reinforced, like everything else. Besides, the good version's in Father's personal library, and I don't think you'll be allowed in there soon. Still…better get started on that—it's _A Brief History of Magic_, and you'll need to know it cover to cover soon if you want any recognition from anyone. I don't know how things were done with your family," he smirked, "but the Kin does them differently."

Finding herself ushered toward the door, Elaine returned to her own room and plopped into the chair. Soon she gave up on the book, mostly because it was excruciatingly difficult, but also due to the cool confidence of the laughing, sneering Draco Malfoy, whose face continually appeared in her mind. If ever she had a chance—no, she did have the opportunity to learn from them, to watch them, and to fire it all right back at their rich faces.

* * *

Twice a tall, graceful blond figure appeared near the top of the spiraling staircase, and twice Lucius lifted his gaze for the briefest of moments to send her sweeping out of sight. The woman…the woman had no place in his private discussions; she was cold, yes, but cold and stupid as well, and always hungry for more. More power, more money to spend, she would bankrupt the family treasury and leave the lands barren.

If the Malfoy ever sank so low, that is.

At last their conversation drew to a close, and André rose from his seat and was escorted outside by Lucius Malfoy. Before he exited, he met Lucius's implacable gaze again and twisted the corner of his mouth up into a gentle half smile. Their exchange of parting words was meaningless, but he had more to add.

"Cousin, I don't believe I shall be returning soon. Hard times will soon be upon us all," he spoke quietly, with the mannerisms instilled by his father and the Kin. "But as Draco's godfather, I have a parting gift for him, to be opened on his sixteenth birthday." Drawing a small velvet bag from his cloak, he passed it to Lucius, who immediately pocketed it.

"Of course." Lucius inclined his head gracefully. "Until next meeting, André."

"May the Lady Callide be with you."

He cast a final glance over the great stone castle before walking through the Arch and disappearing altogether.


	7. Chapter Seven: Acquaintance for the Futu...

Chapter Seven: Acquaintance for the Future

The pale but still somewhat childish face of Elaine Malfoy Kwan peered through fine gauze curtains curiously, her dark brown eyes absorbing the minutiae of the estates. As the carriage floated smoothly over the grass, drawn by large winged horses, scenes and landscapes darker and older than magic whizzed by, and each remained in sight for barely a second before blurring into the next. It was far different from the lush orchards and rolling hills she had seen earlier—this was the _other_ side of the vast Malfoy estates.

"Elaine, do pull your head back…I would face an unpleasant trial if you were to incinerate it as we pass through the Arch…" Lucius Malfoy's lazy, unconcerned drawl drifted to the back of the car on a crisp morning breeze. Though he did not turn, instead gazing pointedly ahead like his wife, the girl shuddered and quickly pulled the fabrics shut. Beside her Draco said nothing, but she could feel the amusement on his face, amusement at her misstep. _So be it then._

As they neared the Arch, the very air hummed softly, and strains of archaic song faded farther and farther away just as Elaine tried to listen more closely. It was unlike any music ever before, a sort of mixture between inaudible drum pulses and a harrowing, liquid chant poured to the wind.  A familiar tingle ran up her spine and stirred her into an alert, expectant state of mind. All traces of lethargy vanished; a wild spirit glided through the recesses of her thoughts.

But around her, the world seemed much as it had been only seconds before. The elder Malfoys sat near the chauffeur, poised, composed, while their son leaned against the armrest and stared at the folds of the sashes. Only she felt the quickening of breath and the unknown substance racing through her veins, and she loved the sensation with a forcefulness Elaine had not known existed.

Had it been like this when she first arrived? That time Hancock had attempted to distract her with comforts and reassurances, and great help that had been. As much as Elaine tumbled through her memories, there was a large gap at that critical moment. Suddenly she wanted to know what had affected her, the knowledge of breathing some fresh, non-Malfoy air or the location itself. If the former, there was still surely an aura about the door to the outside that only she noticed…only someone who could not claim to be a true blond, Norman Malfoy.

The cheery twitter of a skylark broke through the protective bubble around her senses, and she inhaled sharply as the carriage rolled to a surprisingly jolting halt. Nodding thanks to the driver, Elaine descended the steps and followed them through the Arch. She could not resist an inquisitive glance at the weathered surface of the keystone before hurrying through the doorway to nowhere, for it would not do to be left behind.

Draco tapped his fingers on the counter impatiently after giving his parents a carelessly confident wave, and then they had left him to purchase new robes with Elaine in tow. Sometimes his mother rather hurt him, considering her crazily fluctuating impatience and cloying tenderness. He could not recall a single instance when she had displayed genuine, unmitigated love, not even affection…oddly enough it still hurt to see the other little boys and girls being hugged and kissed, despite how much he pulled away from the touch of flesh against flesh.

Yet there was still the business of the annoyed, portly woman standing before him who had affixed his money pouch with hungry, eager eyes. Sighing, he produced his name and order, the requisite Hogwarts robes in the trained voice of an Apexi heir, then dropped a golden coin onto the counter, where it was immediately plucked away by her plump fingers. Once the clothing was in his hands, he beckoned Elaine forward and stepped away, firing her a warning look that warned not to say anything irrevocably stupid. Silly girl, he never knew what to really expect of her. Unlike the children of the Kins, Elaine had been raised in a classical middle-class environment, and she talked like someone who had never seen a few Galleons or a well-situated manor before. In private it merely drew discipline from Father, but publicly—if she humiliated them, he would never forgive her.

Or at least until she did something to redeem herself.

He sauntered to the entrance of the robe shop and immediately spotted another soon-to-be first year, a dark-haired, nervous-looking boy loitering about the entrance with a similar bag in his hands. Soon they had struck up a stilted conversation, and Draco saw for the first time Rubeus Hagrid, gamekeeper of Hogwarts. But overall he could not help but shrink away at the boy's obvious lack of confidence and Muggle-like amazement. There was not a chance that they met again as allies in Slytherin.

"What's your surname, anyway?" he finally asked, once all other venues of conversation had been exhausted.

At that time, he turned on his heel and jogged away, following the hairy man of gigantic proportions. _Hagrid_. Even the name sounded like a servant type, Draco curled his lip in slight disgust, which was quickly noticed by Elaine as she trotted over with her robes.

For a moment Elaine gazed at the boy's retreating back, and her eyes never left the black hair falling over his forehead. The crystal clear eyes looked familiar, as did the hint of a healed gash seen from her vantage point behind the two. Once he was completely out of sight, she gasped, "I think I just saw Harry Potter, the child savior of the world…"

_Harry Potter_. _Boy superhero_.

In the books he had always been shown as a tiny bawling infant engulfed in blinding green light for a split second, frozen in that instance of time. There had been no pictures released since the Halloween night that had changed everything, only sketches of what he was rumored to look like. And ten years later, Elaine was surprised at how different he looked than she had pictured.

Mentally she had always imagined a brave, handsome boy unafraid of the world, although her (late) parents had explained over and over that he was just an ordinary boy who had been touched by Fate, a lucky boy. The rapidly disappearing figure before her was scrawny, uneasy, and did not even seem to realize how well known, how _famous_ he was. But scars spoke no lies, and the bolt of lightening etched across his forehead was unmistakable.

Draco shrugged, the expression on his face skeptical. "You are willing to draw that conclusion without ever speaking to him?" he asked, not looking into her eyes.

"I ha—must admit that Harry Potter's a little disappointing," she replied softly and corrected herself in mid-word. Grammar lessons, so pointless, yet so important to Uncle Lucius, who seemed to require that anyone bearing his name behave like the "ancient and venerable House of Malfoys".

"Disappointing? More like gutter trash," scoffed Draco, recalling the nondescript, shapeless clothing he wore and the skittish manner in which he spoke. "Of course I plan to extend a hand of friendship…but I doubt that he would accept it."

Elaine thought about a response about answering, selecting just the words to express her opinions. Although she personally was neutral towards the Gentis Apexis business, their philosophies were seeping slowly but surely into her actions. It left her a bit frightened, but also with an intense power that felt as if it could never be robbed, unlike her past life, unlike the lives of her parents…

So she merely replied, "We will be seeing an interesting first year."

Laughing softly, almost openly, Draco headed outside and she followed at his side, similar to a lost puppy but with a shade more initiative. "And that we will," he smirked. Refined, remorseless, and ready for the ten months to come.

The slit-like eyes of a boy little older flickered back and forth the crowded street; the expression upon his pinched features was of the utmost disdain. Yet his lips, barely present, nearly identical to those of the lanky man beside him, twitched up into a hint of a cruel sneer. It was then that he spotted them.

Soon to be first years…

Lazily picking his way through the shoppers in the practiced manner of princes, he eventually arrived near enough to identify their faces—and well, if it wasn't Malfoy and a girl, a girl already. What did that speak for his future at Hogwarts? These answers in mind, the boy by name of Theodore Nott refused to pass by the rarest of chances, the opportunity to catch the future king of the Apexis off guard. For once Malfoy was almost alone, and even at the tender age of twelve Theodore had learned to relish and anticipate the taste of blood.

He had been taught the ancient customs upon leaving the cradle, a time that was no longer present within his mind. And a very fine, developed mind it was, so he thought smugly. But by the Lady he had been born a child of misfortune, always second-class in the complex network of old houses, always inferior to the bloody princes like Draco Malfoy. Theodore could picture the bawling, red-faced infant as he screamed for yet another golden rattle, and the thought sent a jolt of furious envy all the way up his spine to his narrow head complete with shock of coarse sandy hair. He _knew_ he could accomplish so much, bring the entire system of the old aristocracy crashing his feet…and yet, Fortune chose to bless the little Malfoy. It was an injustice that Theodore Nott refused to accept.

"Good day," he greeted the two as he approached them from across the street, "_Malfoy_." Glittering amber eyes swept over the younger boy, resting just momentarily on the bag of robes that hung from his perfectly white hand. Quite deliberately, he stared into those already-silvery gray eyes, and though he was a good few inches taller the aura of power still emanated from young Master Malfoy, unmistakable, unforgettable.

Quite deliberately, he ignored the girl who was his companion but instead noted her poorly concealed fear.

Draco, appearing surprised at his sudden appearance, still managed a cool exterior and returned, "Yourself as well, Nott—finishing off school shopping as well?"

_Congratulations to the prince for not forcing me to force you to lick my shoes._

He nodded and began to initiate cordial small talk, every so often shooting an icy glare at the girl, who remained silent. Finally Theodore smiled at her, much too casually, and prompted, "Who might you be, to have met Draco Malfoy and to accompany him to…Diagon Alley?"

There, the question had been put out. Now all he had to do was wait for an answer…

It was not long in coming, although Elaine did struggle with garbled syllables for a few seconds. "Elaine Kwan, pleased to meet you," she managed to sputter out as calmly as she could, then extended a friendly hand.

The boy stepped back, perceptibly appalled at the simple gesture. "Theodore Nott, entering into the second year at Hogwarts. Pleased to meet you as well," he added, a trace of derision lacing his words.

Suddenly she felt more sickened than she ever had at the Malfoy manor, with the possible exception of the skull incident that continued to flash through her mind, taunting and insinuating that she would never _truly_ belong. But Unc—Lucius Malfoy had at least attempted to be civil and relatively courteous, treating her as a pseudo-member of his family, providing her with almost the same privileges as Draco himself. While the atmosphere of the estates was never warm, it did possess a civilized, elegant air about it, and she had grown to appreciate it without even realizing her newest perspectives.

And Elaine had realized that there was more to the world than her previous life and her parents. Yes she remembered the happy days, but no, she no longer dwelled in the past or the future that could have been. Cold knowledge took the place of warm innocence, and powerful knowledge at that. The theory of spellwork, the history of the old families, and most importantly, the Game so emphasized by Uncle Malfoy. She had started late but caught on quickly, to the theoretical parts at least. The rest, the practicalities, he had said that she would need to decipher later, on her own.

Superficially she had been transformed into an honorary child of the Gentis Apexis, a girl instructed to behave as though she had been raised in such an environment for all of her eleven years. The Malfoys had attempted to make the most of a month and a half, and she had thought herself ready to find a place in the complex web of social connections.

But Theodore Nott was not fooled, and he had instantly rejected her.

Numbed in shock, she turned to Draco for help. As if on cue, he immediately picked up the loose ends of the conversation, though bored or slightly annoyed afterwards. After a few minutes, Elaine sensed the passing of a shadow above her head, and there stood a tall man with cruel amusement on his face, simply standing and watching before introducing himself. Laurentius Nott.

He led his son away, always smiling in that unreadable manner, and her lip curled up just a bit, the way of her new "family", in the wake of him and his crudest of crude miens.

Once the Notts had safely departed and they had moved on to the next shop, Draco shook his head in mild displeasure. "Never offer to shake their hands," he murmured into her ear. "It is a purely middle-class custom, and you are now of the Apexis."

_Never offer to shake their hands…middle-class…the Apexis…_

Elaine would remember that for a long time.

AN: I'm so terribly sorry that I haven't updated, but it's been rather inevitable…swamped with work since March, yes, I know, March. Hopefully this chapter is to your liking, and thanks to slateone for pushing me to get it out. Unfortunately it's not proofread, but I thought I'd publish it to put all you fans at peace. :-P

l8er,

-cybErdrAgOn


	8. Chapter Eight: The Metamorphosis

Chapter Eight: The Metamorphosis

After the meeting with Nott, they swept through the remainder of the shopping quickly, not daring to bring Elaine into encounter with any other ¡family friends.¡± And they were altogether silent on the streets, especially when Uncle Lucius had veered off the main road into a much darker alleyway, then emerged holding nothing in his hands. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, though she knew not why; of course, it was before the realization struck her that no one knew what was in his pockets.

It could have been anything, anything at all that would fit in those robes. Taking her eyes from a point straight ahead, she flashed a quick glance at his smooth white hands. She was half curious and half afraid, but after the skull incident Elaine no longer dared to explore too much or ask too many questions. It satisfied her to know what might be and speculate on that alone, perhaps even to investigate on her own a little bit without attracting any attention.

As much as she would have preferred to rest and mull over the matter, Elaine found herself thrown into a frenzy like no other once she and Draco had stepped through the manor¡¯s doors. It began when a house elf, or, rather, a crew of house elves seized their bags and scuttled away, the parcels borne above their heads.

She pitied them, particularly the one in the center, who stood a few inches below the rest and stumbled along, knees buckling as though they were not steady enough to support its frail body. In the second before the elf had passed through yet another door, presumably leading to a storage room, Elaine winced and promptly made up her mind to temporarily ignore protocol. Darting forward, she extended a hand and adjusted the package in an attempt to shift the weight.

Simultaneously, the elf looked up and Lucius looked down, and they both shook their heads while trapping her between their relentless stares. And though her hand trembled, she had then learned of another idiosyncrasy of her family¡ªthe beliefs that nonhumans were below their notice.

¡_It isn¡¯t supposed to be this way!_¡± she cried inside her head as she was led upstairs by a blank-faced Draco, led away from the house elves and the scene that would follow. Once they had reached the third floor, he abruptly wheeled around.

¡Honestly,¡± said Draco, ¡what do you not understand.¡± It was a statement, irate and curt, not the question that her mother would have posed when exhausted from work. ¡House elves are servants, and we¡¯re wizards¡­or at least I thought you were one.¡±

That stopped her, and she furrowed her brows in thought for a moment before declaring quietly, ¡No, because I¡¯m a witch, and¡­and more powerful than them. Just as lucky though.¡± Sighing, Elaine shook her head, and a strand of black hair came untied from the ponytail. Confusion spread through her at the same time, a confusion that she did not expect Draco to understand in the least. No, not even confusion¡­more like simply being unsure of herself like never before.

Already her mind and heart were no longer the same. The vast majority of the time, the mind overruled the heart, an unavoidable occurrence for which she spent uneasy days and restless nights. Always the same question bothered her, and she desperately wanted to know its answer. So simple, yet so important for her sanity.

Was she turning into one of _them_?

In her bedroom an hour later, Elaine lay on her bed, lazy eyes staring at the door and willing someone to step inside. An entire stack of books rested on the desk, but somehow she could not force herself to focus on spells and languages. _Someone_, she thought with a sigh, _should have told her that the life of the wealthy could be so boring at times._ Though she had never expected games, there did need to be some sort of entertainment occasionally.

And Draco? Elaine rolled her eyes childishly as she drew up mental images of the blond prince skimming a Potions volume and thinking about how best to crush the lion in his new game, the one designed to harness thought and transform it into moving pictures. Unfortunately, as she realized, he was far from stupid, but rather more than intelligent enough to finish whatever Lucius assigned, play games, and wander about the manor just to irritate her. While she could understand most of the books given a little time, Draco rarely if ever failed to master a lesson within minutes. Of course Elaine envied him, and like so many other times, there was nothing she could do except turn away from his sneering face.

As if on cue, the door swung open, and she slid off the bed at the shadow of a lanky figure standing in her room. ¡While I am pleased to see you enjoying yourself,¡± said Lucius coldly, ¡there remains the matter of the previous events of the day to be discussed.¡±

¡Yes, Uncle?¡±

¡Come now, you cannot possibly expect your actions to be forgiven.¡± A smile appeared on his hard features, lacking humor except one of slightly cruel amusement.

Hands icy cold, Elaine shook her head but made no sound. With some difficulty, a nervous squeak was suppressed, and any words she could have thought of immediately evaporated, leaving her throat thirsting for a sip of water. And all the while, she felt the man¡¯s steely eyes boring into her soul, stealing any secrets that still remained.

¡No,¡± he continued more softly, although his voice had the same force as before, ¡you will find that every act has a consequence in your life, and far heavier they will be than in your former. For instance, I sincerely hope that you will never again offer sympathies to a mere¡­servant.¡±

During the course of their one-sided conversation, Lucius¡¯ hand had begun to slip to his pockets, and now it grasped a polished wand between strong white fingers. Turning to her once more, he shook his head and said, ¡Perhaps you require a slightly more forceful reminder?¡±

Instantly her throat convulsed, tongue clamped by such a sudden forceful bite that a trickle of coppery blood flowed to the back of her mouth as Elaine fought to remain silent. The lashing pain on her hands lasted for barely a moment, and once she had regained a semblance of composure and glanced at them, the burning red lines crisscrossed on her palms had already started to fade. There had not even been enough time to think, only to squeeze her eyes shut from the horrors of watching Uncle¡¯s pale, unruffled features. When she saw him again, the wand had already been pocketed, and he had almost left.

¡Oh, in my haste I forgot to mention something that may be of importance to you,¡± drawled Lucius as a passing note just before his feet had carried him away. ¡Henceforth, your official name is Laine Callida Kwan. For legal purposes¡­and good luck.¡±

And with his footsteps had gone the last tangible traces of her past. For a while, the new Laine buried her face in a thick pillow and sobbed uncontrollably, the muscle spasms jerking her slight frame into frantic convulsions. Then she sat up painfully, smiled, and looked forward to the future with a fresh and steely determination.

There were bad days, and that had been one of the worst days. But on the other hand, sometimes she found herself content with the dignity and intensity of her new life coursing through her blood. Never happy, of course, but Laine never again saw the sort of jubilation that had been customary in her past life, as she liked to call it now. She enjoyed the calm days, felt herself prick up, intrigued, upon the mention of any news, good or otherwise. She took the turbulent days in stride, storing away the memories in the back of her mind if ever she would need them.

Draco had begun to teach her to fly, and she relished the rush of the wind in her watering eyes, at least once she had learned enough not to look to the ground far away and tremble enough to fall off. Eventually, he had even allowed her to take his own Nimbus 1900 once, racing the scissor-tailed swallows as they sliced through the cool evening air. Laine had laughed quietly as she dove, barely skimming the tallest blades of grass, while Draco merely fired her an amused but impatient look. But that too had evaporated, and the next instant he had pulled himself onto the broom. Unfortunately, their combined weights slowed it to what apparently was an unacceptable speed for ¡Master Malfoy,¡± and his course of action was to push her so that she clung to the tail with white-knuckled fingers, dragging both of them down to the ground. And that had ended the night¡¯s flying, as Aunt had come out at that moment refusing to see her precious son injured.

It mattered little to Draco, however, for he found more than enough to do on the vast expanses of land his father just so happened to own. In exchange for giving up her ¡silly dolls¡±, Laine accompanied him as he wandered outside, trudging through the mud that he rarely deigned to so much as look at and forgetting all concerns of what unlucky being would clean her shoes. Of course, she inevitably talked more as they trotted over the gently sloping hills on the horses, but at least Draco listened part of the time.

And that mattered so much to her.

They passed the idyllic days in much the same manner, spending time between the studies and the many recreational activities, until finally September 1st drew near. The start of term, the start of their entrances into the high wizarding society. The start of their lives, which also determined whether there was any cause for hope later on.

Just before he left for his own room on the night before school began, Draco caught a glimpse of golden light illuminating the crack underneath Laine¡¯s door. Out of curiosity, he pushed it open carefully and saw her oddly small figure barely occupying any room on the bed, as well as a few books, lying closed on her desk. Quietly, he entered his own room, falling onto the bed with a soft sigh. _At least she¡¯s learned not to worry¡­_he mused briefly, eyes staring into the dark folds of the bed¡¯s curtains, _because Malfoys can handle anything._

Then he fell into a deep sleep, the last for some days to come.


	9. Chapter Nine: Departure and Journey

Chapter Nine: Departure and Journey

The next morning, Narcissa swept downstairs with a careless grace and a cool smile. Her children¡­no, she could not allow herself to think of the girl as _her_ child¡­had already begun eating, and Lucius sat facing her, evidently in an indulgent mood. Rays of golden light streamed through the windows and onto their faces, each containing a far greater brilliance than that of the angelic dawn.

Oh, but that was such a pity. She could have easily accepted a surrogate child who did not dazzle, who was content to prop Draco up through all her days. Instead she had been cursed with a girl who refused to collapse, shatter, or wither in the House of the Malfoy. And she had been cursed by her unbreakable obligations.

Every inch the Lady, Narcissa lowered herself into the empty chair, then nodded and smiled lightly at her ¡family.¡± But it was a family bound by blood and Oaths, not the idea of love, which had never truly existed in her heart either. Especially that the two children were going to be out of sight for a good few months, she would be nothing in the eye of Lucius, nothing until the coming winter when the social season and its scrutiny on public image would commence.

As a child, she had once expected a fairytale courtship and marriage, though such delusions had faded by the age when she could first work toward them. At school there had been no one quite up to par with her expectations¡­until, of course, she had met the white-blond, powerfully charismatic Lucius, then a fourteen-year-old boy fighting for his Lordship and what her parents had considered a perfect match. Obviously they had insisted on an engagement, and then marriage only two months after graduation from Hogwarts.

For a moment, her eyes misted over. She was bringing back memories of balmy summer evenings and burning, amorous nights. Nights spent trembling with expectation upon a goose down bed and twisting, twisting her white arms around his neck, drawing them both together...­

But then there were also the nights when she lay cold and lonely, staring into the darkness and wondering what it concealed. Needless to say, she lived far from a perfect life...yet could that be attributed to herself? Did she covet more than could be obtained?

_No matter_, thought Narcissa as she sipped her coffee and rested her deceptively mild gaze on Draco and Laine. _What I want, I will have..._

_

* * *

­_Once they had brushed over the list of issues to be aware of at Hogwarts, Lucius stood and strode to the doorway, his line behind him. The entire time, Draco was shifting out of boredom, to be quieted by the briefest of silver-gray gazes. He had heard the instructions time and time again already, as had Laine. But it was utterly unavoidable, the reminder, and oh¡­evidently something new?

Uncle wanted Draco to behave like the spoiled brat that he so clearly was not? To put aside Apexi manners, bearing, and a certain degree of...­humility?

She supposed that he had his reasons and thus did not comment, except for a slight nod. Following him silently outside, Laine cast a final glance upon the Manor, today revealed in all of its cold, unwavering splendor. The early sun darkened every shadow, brightened the few faces of light on the building, and for a moment she saw the fortress lying beneath the façade of an ancient and beautiful work of art. She saw, for a moment, into the very core of the Malfoy lands and all that Lucius emphasized so frequently, but could not place words on the sensation of awe sweeping across her. Then Laine felt a tug at her stomach, and when she looked back again, the Arch stood in front and a clean expanse of meadows behind.

In single file, all four of them passed through the Arch, the venerable Arch that shielded the highest of the High People from wayward thoughts and the rest of the world. Within another second, Lucius had Apparated them to Platform 9 ¾ itself—no trifling with the barrier and the Muggles required.

Around her were students and parents scrambling about, panicking over the loss of a toad, and every other imaginable dilemma while still wearing their Muggle clothing. Except, of course, for her ¡family¡± and a very few select others. They looked out at the crowds with a supremely cool, disdainful air, and they were fully aware that they commanded attention wherever they walked. Even Draco had changed, somehow. Slowly, slowly, he unfolded his arms and allowed a hint of a smirk onto his face that was so much like Uncle's. His back had straightened imperceptibly, and he held his head high, with an insolent air that flaunted all that a Malfoy was.

Draco was no longer a child, to be coddled; however, Laine had never thought that in the first place. But all traces of childhood had melted away and left behind a young Lord ready for all that could possibly strike him. She saw that his face was perfect, the result of over two millennia of breeding, and now it revealed none of whatever dark thoughts that might have rested within his mind.

Together they boarded the train, lifting the large trunks easily despite of their characteristically slim figures. Once on board, Draco immediately spotted a few of his other friends and left her standing in the aisle, momentarily frozen until someone shouted at her to move. So quickly, Laine ducked into the nearest empty compartment, shut the door, and released a long, long sigh.

A few days ago, in the secluded tranquility of the hills, she and Draco had had endless discussions over school—the teachers, the food, and most of all, the Houses. But he had never even mentioned the chaos of simply getting to school...­or perhaps he had not anticipated it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Laine spotted two tall figures standing a few feet apart from the other panicked parents, both radiating an aura of confidence that could be sensed even through a pane of glass. She nearly raised her hand to wave, but thought better of it and resigned herself to a quick nod, which they returned smoothly. It seemed that their expectations had not, in fact, magically left her when the platform began to move backwards and they, forward. But she had embarked upon a new leg of the journey, and she was nearing her supposed goal without knowing what it was.

A female voice broke through her thoughts as the door slid open. "Hey, mind if I sit here?"

She shook her head. "Not at all."

No sooner had she said those words than a whole group of girls came inside, unwilling to waste a second in their interminable conversation that had begun hours ago and would end hours later. Laine listened for a while, until the steady drone faded into background noise in her mind. It drew a sense of irritation from her, an irritation that spawned from their willingness to talk about anything and everything without any other considerations. Simply put, they were so...­crass. And Uncle Lucius had warned her of it.

Drumming her fingers on the window sill, she resigned herself to staring outside at the blurs and flashes of trees, of tiny villages they passed. They looked almost like the Malfoy estates, except that the Old land gave off a more potent magic. She exhaled softly and turned back to her companions...­and immediately drew their unwanted attention as well.

"So anyway," the blonde flicked a strand of her ponytail aside, smiling as though she had done something spectacular by addressing a first year before leaving sight of the station. "What's your name? I'm Katie Bell, a Gryffindor second year."

_The imbecile_, she thought with a mental sigh. "Laine Callida Kwan, pleased to make your acquaintance." A trace of the cynical amusement compounded with audacity appeared in her eyes, at which Katie seemed rather taken aback.

"Oh, that's a nice name. Any idea as to what House you'll be in?"

"Not particularly, no." She flicked a glance at the figures barely visible through the frosted door. No, no one she was particularly interested in, but that mattered little. "Excuse me," said Laine, carefully making her way outside the compartment. There was no way on Earth that she could tolerate another minute of that blonde, babbling Gryffindor¡­not that the last part mattered, of course.

She did not bother to explain her abrupt departure, did not bother to so much as look back. If she had, she would have only seen their heads bobbing up and down, mouths fluttering with excitement. At any rate, it did not excite her very much, even though Laine could not actually bring herself to harbor any resentment towards them. In fact, they almost—almost reminded her of someone else she had known months ago and had not seen since. They reminded her of an easy, cheerful life that she had not lived for months.

And they reminded her of all that lay beyond the Malfoy lands.

_I should have been one of them..._

_

* * *

­_Once outside, she inhaled deeply and began to wander down the car, turning from side to side as she searched for one of two students she already knew, and only one of whom she felt any desire to meet. Draco and Theodore Nott. So similar, and yet so different in a way that could not be put into words. There was a fundamental rift between the two, and she could sense but not explain it. She saw their faces in her head, one smirking, the other curling a lip into a sneer. Otherwise, they were the same, but different.

If anyone had asked her to point out that difference, Laine would have screamed in frustration—no, simply looked at him until he understood for himself. Because some things in life were not meant to be put into words...­

She spotted a blond head just in front and shook all frustration away, then followed out of curiosity. He was walking with an air of carelessness, flanked by the two large boys she had seen earlier, whose main purposes were to serve as bodyguards. After some wandering, the three of them finally stopped inside a car and opened the door. Laine smiled; maybe they had seen someone of interest whom she should meet as well. But maybe, just maybe, she ought not to intrude just yet.

Although she saw little of what happened inside, Laine did hear the lazy drawl of the Malfoy floating through the air, and then silence. And there was a sudden grunt of pain, followed by the hasty, undignified retreat of three figures plus one scruffy rat flying across the aisle. They were walking towards her, and she raised a brow in amusement and nodded slightly.

Draco pushed by her without a word, and his two companions nearly crushed her against the glass compartment door.

_Ignored her completely!_

A scowl formed on her face, one that she directed at their departing backs. It was, of course, more than useless, as Draco would not look back unless there was an audible distraction, and his "friends" were too stupid to divert their gaze from his slim, radiant figure. He had the tendency to attract notice, to command power, to instill loyalty like his father, which no one failed to notice. And he had a sufficiently large entourage that he could afford to dismiss anyone (like Laine) who did not exactly satisfy his particular needs...­a fact that hurt her more than it should have.

With a final parting glance, she returned to the compartment that was no longer hers and attempted to slip into her seat without notice. She failed, as the girls noticed her and immediately drew her into the conversation. Soon and despite herself, Laine too was laughing, completely and utterly at ease, telling stories of her own, at least of her old life. Dark eyes sparkled; her face had a sort of merry impudence that had been missing for a long time. Her musings were lost in the endless flow of words and silenced by mischievous snickers, leaving her head empty and light. And she sat there and talked and talked and talked, with barely a trace of a doubt that this was somehow incorrect. Until the conversation slowed to a pause.

It was as if she had awakened from a dream, and she blinked several times before leaning back and sighing rather wistfully. Gryffindor was a fun House to be in, where she knew she would have no trouble fitting right into the crowd of troublemakers and firebrands—or at least the other crowd who spent its time spurning on their antics. Unfortunately, Laine also sensed a deeper instinct: that she had witnessed too much blood to revert to the old ways. Too much blood to live like that again.

In effect, she was caught in the middle between two ripping, tearing forces, and there was no way out.

* * *

He rested his head back on the smooth velvet of the seat—it was amazing what a little money and persuasion could do, sometimes. And yet, it was also amazing what the two were incapable of...­ 

The taste of failure was acrid in his mouth, and though Draco Malfoy the boy had sampled worse, this was humiliation, sheer public humiliation without any regard to the rules. Then again, he himself did not think twice about bending them, but he had expected Harry Potter, boy hero to at least extend the most common of courtesies in return.

_Evidently_, he sneered, _Potter doesn't understand his own world._ And the sparks of cold anger were born.

As two pairs of confused, less-stupid-than-they-seemed eyes drilled into his head, Crabbe and Goyle noticing his unease, he allowed a smirk to curl at his lips before resting a cool gray gaze on each of them in turn. That silenced them quite effectively, silenced the unspoken doubts.

The vendor passed him with little more than a polite smile, and he shifted slightly to permit the passage of Crabbe's bulky figure as he went in search of more food. For a few precious moments, Draco was alone, but how he relished the silence and the tranquility that seemed to become a shield of its own, protecting him from the whims of the world.

It was too early to concede defeat, but¡­it was also very uncool to be forced away by a large rat.

Checking his watch, Draco realized that they were nearing Hogwarts and slipped a tie beneath black robes. Soon they would start their new lives—if he could put the day's earlier incident out of mind, if he could only focus on maintaining the right image from now on.

They said that it was a cruel system, but it was a system that had maintained a balance of power since the dawn of magical history, before other fools had begun to interfere. And Draco could not, would not defy the centuries of protocol and tradition that had been bred into his very blood; he could not ignore his own standing and right and resources.

In the society that he and hundreds of generations of Malfoy before him had been born into, strength was vital, and the weak were put down without mercy...

* * *

As they left the train in uneven waves, the older students boarded carriages and left the first years to the supervision of a large, bearded man stumping about the lake. They followed him silently, a bit anxious at the sight of the looming blackness of the castle against the violet-blue sky, but nevertheless boarded the slender vessels gliding across the silky smooth surface of the lake. From nowhere, a breath of wind sent quivers up the longest fingers of the forest and the exposed necks of the first years, waiting to find their future, waiting to realize it. But they could only wait, for nothing could compel the hulking figure at the fore to proceed but at his own pace. Then the caravan of boats slipped into a tiny grotto, and all was truly dark for a few moments until the white shoreline came into view, and with it, a weathered door. 


	10. Chapter Ten: Parting of the Ways

Chapter Ten: Parting of the Ways

He was used to the grand and extravagant life, but the cavernous hallways and lofty, black velvet ceiling impressed him nonetheless. But unlike the majority of the other first years, who gawked in shameless wonder, he walked forward, occasionally flicked a glance to either side.

He was Draco Malfoy, and that explained everything.

As they arrived in the Great Hall, stretched out before the hundreds of older students, he blinked at the light of thousands of shimmering candles. They effectively blurred the pale faces below into one, one shapeless, featureless mass that was only somewhat interested with the proceedings. Then someone began to sing―it was the raucous hat―but Draco never tore his eyes away from the leftmost table, silenced Crabbe (or Goyle, perhaps?) with a meaningless nod. For the first time, he was looking upon Slytherin, and he knew them and they knew him.

The first few students walked up to the stool. For the most part he watched calmly, with an almost bored air; unlike that rabble, Draco knew perfectly well where he would be by the end of the evening.

"Kwan, Laine Callida," called Professor McGonagall.

The silent Slytherin table stiffened, recognizing the implications of the name. _Callida_. It was an unusual one, but more importantly, a derivation of Callide, the Lady Callide. The Lady who represented the Gentis Apexis and bore the smile that they strove to attain. Cool, reserved, and mildly amused. The Lady Callide represented power and ambition and raw, naked beauty―she had the dark eyes and the effortless grace of a dancer or a queen. And this unknown bore her name.

Draco kept his features impassive as the Hat rested on her head for an eternity. None but she could possibly know what judgment was being weighed, but he had a strong suspicion that the Hat was unsure...that Laine was at the fork of the two likeliest paths she could take. On one hand, he wouldn't mind putting some distance between himself and the silly girl; on the other, he wouldn't be able to bear the tension that would arise. But either way, the choice was not his to make.

When Laine finally stumbled towards the left, dazed as the blank faces stared back at her, Draco was the only one who wasn't surprised.

As she sat down at the end of the table, he smiled mentally. Several other students, none spectacular, and his own Sorting was next. It passed quickly, almost too quickly, and he too made towards the Slytherin house table after barely a second of contemplation. But he approached them as a princeling...whereas Laine was merely a first year. An ordinary first year, of another House for all they cared, but for her name.

Without meaning to, his lips curved into the hint of a smile, greeting the older students and even then sizing up the few members of his own class. Of course, he recognized all of them―Jareth Clay, languid beyond belief; Crabbe and Goyle, semi-conscious bodyguards; his own cousin Alecsander Roucieux (just Alec); Blaise Zabini, striding smoothly towards him. The girls were fewer in number, although generally, the House itself accepted only the best suited of all students.

Otherwise, they might not survive.

Draco ran that thought through his mind, then turned it to the first issue that faced him. Finding a seat. For a moment, he nearly panicked, his eyes widened, and he exhaled slowly, tussling with that initial urge. Briefly he looked at Laine and shook his head before taking his rightful place at the center of the first years. As he gestured aside Goyle, their faces automatically turned to the quicksilver eyes like flowers worshipping the brilliant sunlight, and Draco nodded and smiled once more. His earliest worries subsided and were replaced by a rare moment of pleasure, of childish, stupid delight. And he picked up a fork to taste the first, most innocent Hogwarts feast of his life.

* * *

She picked at her soup slowly, listlessly, not bothering to look upon anything but the contents of the bowl. But her mind was screaming itself hoarse, while her tongue remained firmly attached to the back of her throat. Amazing. It was simply amazing where she could have been tonight, and the difference between that and where she was...

"Congratulations, Pansy," she heard a girl's voice, already cool and pleasant. Lifting her head, Laine spotted the girl to whom the comment was made, a dark-haired, vivacious little Slytherin.

"Oh, you too," was the response, "not that either of us could have expected otherwise."

But she had. She had expected to be a Gryffindor with Katie Bell, and she wouldn't have minded at all. And now even Draco had abandoned her.

"By the way," Pansy continued, "would you happen to know _her_­?"

A few cautious eyes turned, but Laine forced her gaze directly forward. Obviously they did not know "her" due to her lineage, or rather, lack thereof. It was beyond the point even to ask.

The other girl, who could easily have been Draco's sister, merely frowned. "Naturally I would assume that _she's_...you understand, different."

Laine stiffened, fuming. Even as she pointedly ignored the chattering in front of her, she could also sense a pair of eyes flickering at the side of her head. It was probably just Draco, she decided. Draco, who looked like he had been born to sit in the middle of the crowd and command it with a wave of his hand. But it was also so _unfair_ that he had been born into this life, while she was undeniably an outsider.

There had to be others like her in the House―it was inconceivable that the aristocracy of the wizarding world had so many children. She sighed yet again, looking over the other first years. The boys, Draco had already gathered, and they had probably grown up in each other's manors. Unfortunately, there weren't as many girls, only Pansy and the blonde (Arlene? Ardele?) in the entire year, as far as she could tell. In fact, the Slytherins seemed to be outnumbered by the other Houses overall, although she was certain that they were unconcerned...

Glancing down at her plate, Laine managed to place a piece of zucchini into her mouth and, wondering what it was, chewed apprehensively. To her surprise, the odd-looking squash melted into a light flavor and reminded her of the scent of gardens somehow. Hogwarts food could not be described as "bad"; indeed, it tasted better than some of the food of the Malfoy manor, although Draco would probably just claim that she had no taste to begin with.

And he looked happy. But her year would probably be wasted on watching his contentment. That is, until she felt the presence to her right turn directly towards her.

Stunned, Laine turned towards him as well.

She found herself gazing into a pair of hazel eyes, lucid in the golden candlelight. They were angular, like those of a smiling cat, and she instantly thought of Nott. But no, not quite the same either. They simply looked at her, so she looked back.

When he finally spoke, his words surprised her. There was no greeting and no semblance of the usual niceties that Laine had come to expect. Just a bare statement and the lightest of smiles.

"You know, they're already betting on how long you'll last in Slytherin."

She blinked stupidly, realizing who she was talking to by the snippets of conversation around her.

"Really now..."

"Oh, come on," he interrupted, "it's unimaginable that one of Malfoy's...friends wouldn't have noticed."

A half-amused smile came to her face. "And what do you think?"

Again she was unprepared for the change that washed over him. Instantly he grew quieter but his eyes―those smooth, elegant eyes―were alight with a sort of fire that she had seen once in Draco's, and another time in Uncle Lucius's.

"I'm confident that you'll survive, and _you will shine brighter than half this crowd._" His voice dropped; he nodded to finalize the matter. "Because I'm going to help you...in short, I'm going to ensure it."

Without thinking, she asked, "And what for you?"

The question hung in the air for a moment, and he lowered his eyes, obviously unsettled. Then there were a few seconds of silence, before he exhaled. "Loyalty," he said softly, "which is so hard to find now. Loyalty, and everything that you'll eventually become."

_And everything that you'll eventually become..._

"Normally I'd hate to admit it, but I predict that yours is a mind beyond compare. And it would only improve with time..."

When she heard those words, she shook her head slowly but did not say anything. Part of her wanted to accept the compliment, and the other part inclined towards finding his judgment faulty. But he seemed so much older than she; it reminded her of meeting Draco, or meeting Nott for the first time.

He laughed at the doubt crossing her face, then raised a questioning brow. "You have until tomorrow to think on it, so don't waste the time. I suppose I'll speak to you then." And he returned to the main stream of conversation without missing a beat, attracting only a superior glance from Draco. The rest of them either had not noticed or did not dare to comment.

And that was how Laine met Blaise Zabini, who would become Prince of Slytherin. Who was second only to Draco himself, and who had aspirations beyond her imagination.

But the feast came to an end, and blearily she followed the others past the dungeons and into the dormitories. Her trunk of belongings, pitifully small compared to those of her three roommates, was already there. So were _they_.

The clock had barely struck nine, but she immediately undressed and ducked behind the velvet green curtains of her bed. For a time she lay there, hardly daring to breathe. She knew the others were there, sitting around, smiling.

And then the whispers began. That night, Laine slept with one eye open.

When she woke the next morning, it was to darkness and the silent rustlings of heavy drapes. Pansy, Adele, and Millicent Bulstrode had all gotten up already, by the appearance of their beds. So she too rubbed the sleep away from her eyes―so early, too early. No one in their right minds got up at this time. Then she glanced at her watch to check her instincts and scowled. 5:30.

She pulled on the uniform, but her pale hand lingered on the serpent badge, cold and foreign under her fingertips. One look at it and Laine thought of Katie Bell again. She wondered if the second year remembered her at all, from their conversation on the train. Or if the older girl was asking herself why that first year had ended up in the snake's pit, instead of with her. Because _she_ certainly did.

Following the delicate tinkling of water to the bathrooms, Laine instinctively stepped aside as Pansy and Adele passed her on their way out. They looked much too eager to leave her, but just as they were about to, Pansy made a sudden movement and, quite deliberately, crushed Laine against the frame of the door. She turned, raising a brow before moving on.

"Hope you slept well last night...see you upstairs."

Furious, Laine shook her head and splashed water onto her slightly reddened features. That girl hadn't actually hurt her, of course, but it was always a good sign when one's own dormmates sent their love like that on the first morning. After a few moments, she dried her face with a thick towel, brushed her hair, and stared into the mirror. Not quite adoring what she saw―she looked like nothing compared to beautiful, blonde Adele―but she figured it acceptable for the meantime. The key thing was to stay alive, and then decide what next.

She thought the common room was empty until a slim body rose from one of the plush green sofas. It was Blaise again, looking perfectly at home as he waited for her to come closer, tapping a foot impatiently. A smirk flickered, for he could easily spot the signs of a restless slumber on someone so pale and delicate as Laine. Knowing Parkinson, she would have been lucky to sleep for three hours straight.

"So..." he drawled, "did you have time to think things over?" His question was met by a glare, a glare that held so much fury and intensity and brilliance all at once. And then silence. They continued walking up the stairs from the dungeon to the main floor, the click of their shoes echoing in the endless weave of the hallways. At the top, Laine stopped and composed her features.

"I did," she replied, her voice cool and confident. "I accept your offer."

_I accepted it. There is no going back._

Fresh hope coursed through her body as Blaise scrutinized her for an entire minute, then nodded. And just like that, it was over. Her awkwardness, her status as the misfit could be buried, or thrown to the autumn breezes. Suddenly she knew the meaning of a friend.

When she arrived at the table a few seconds after Blaise, those around him automatically gave way for her. She took her seat at his side and in their midst. Somehow, all of them knew that arrangements had been made over their heads, and they had no reason to object. After all, Blaise Zabini only answered to the Malfoy, and only at the best and worst of times.

Laine Callida Kwan, pureblooded progeny of lions and lionesses, had been claimed. No one was foolish enough to harass her, because that would mean confronting the wrath of the lesser Star. And he was a star all the same.

* * *

In the time between classes on that first day, Katelyn Marie Bell caught a brief glimpse of the raven-haired girl she had met on the train. She waved as the girl passed, but Laine merely held her head high, with Blaise just behind her. There was no act, verbal or otherwise, that showed a trace of recognition.

She frowned, but was soon distracted by a tap on the shoulder. _The cute Ravenclaw!_ A silly-looking grin found its way onto her face as she launched into a two minute stream of chatter about nothing in particular. By the time he had walked away, leaving her with the lopsided smile, Laine had also made her way out of the crowd. And Katie had forgotten all about her.

Of course, she did not understand the politics of the Slytherins and was not even aware of its presence. But she _could_ see that some incredible transformation had occurred in Laine over the short span of thirty-six hours.

As for the Malfoy? Even Draco did not object to this new arrangement, though nor did he ever directly approve of it. After classes, however, when all the first years were gathered in the common room, he offered her a brief view of that rare but magnetic smile. And he even introduced Laine to the others. There was Alec Roucieux, his cool, thoughtful cousin who had a cutting precision with words; viciously sarcastic, dispassionate Jareth Clay, with his chestnut brown hair ruffled and blue eyes snapping; Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, barely distinguishable from one another; Adele Strathmor, the elegant one she'd thought of as Draco's real sister; Millicent Bulstrode, who would never look like she belonged with them, yet somehow did...

Pansy introduced herself formally, the outward malevolence melting from her hard face. Then she sank into a chair gracefully, silently daring Laine to follow suit. Naturally, she did so, just for the sake of it.

And then...then there was Blaise, smooth and utterly polite, but also ambitious like none other she had ever seen. Every time Draco laughed, the group imitated instantly, but with Blaise, seconds could pass before they chose to respond. Laine shuddered inwardly and resigned herself to joining Blaise's plans for the future. At the same time, she awaited them with an inexplicable eagerness.

The first years talked late into the night before dispersing for sleep. It was the same from then on; the previous tensions had all but melted away. She was no longer a stranger, and they were no longer "evil." Over time, Laine even developed a deeper appreciation for their cold elegance and their hypocritical disregard for society's rules and ironbound loyalty to those of the Gentis Apexis.

She had encountered this before, but suddenly it had taken a real shape. And she eventually wanted no other House but this one, and the others had no desire for her to leave, at least.

For that matter, Laine learned the meaning of deep, restful sleep once more.

AN: Well, happy New Year, everyone! I have another chapter ready to go, so reviews are highly encouraged at this point.

l8er  
-cybErdrAgOn


	11. Chapter Eleven: Interlude

Chapter Eleven: Interlude

Happiness. She had finally found it, and with the most unlikely people. The boys and girls at her side represented the highest aristocracy of Britain, a force that commanded easily and bowed reluctantly. The first few days had been awkward, but no one could claim that she was stupid or ignorant. Stupidity could only be inherited, and several months spent in the Malfoy manor had cured her of the latter.

Besides, there were always the angular, intense eyes of Blaise Zabini to point out the way.

However, the children of Slytherin grew to like her, their hard features softening to mere cynicism. It was difficult to actively dislike her, and their dislike melted away within weeks. Laine had the rare ability to draw attention with the stiffening of a hand, or the closing of the eyes, or the subtlest flicker of a smile; her pale, sharp face held an understanding of their lifestyle. But above all, she accepted and loved it like her own, because it was beautiful. So beautiful, and…and dark and rich beyond compare. She had never cared much for food, yet the deep philosophy and intellectualism of the serpent's House sated her mind. Whenever they were tired but calm, they sat in the circle and discussed everything imaginable, or perhaps not. But when she or Draco or Blaise laughed, the purest and brightest of sounds rang out. And when they were certain that no other eyes were watching, they played like other children under the dazzling sunlight, young for minutes before catching themselves once more.

In the process of gaining acceptance, Laine's story had gradually seeped into the pool of common room gossip. Although she never actually heard the conversations, Blaise had one day leaned back in his chair and, rather offhandedly, mentioned it. To her own surprise, she had shrugged and continued watching the fire licking at the grates. Fortunately the other Slytherins dismissed the matter, maybe even respected her more for it. An education with the Malfoys, albeit brief, was worth much in their eyes.

More time had passed before she learned their secrets. Blaise, in particular, was unwilling to give his away, but then he had looked into her dark and ancient eyes, contrasting sharply with her childlike face. And he had relented and begun to talk with this natural but not natural-born aristocrat.

How he had longed to make clear his goals! Life as the second born son provided few real opportunities, and more so when the House emphasized neutrality upon pain of disownment. But then there was Slytherin, a House that had earned his loyalty too. Raw, hungry ambition, more often seen in others, lit a burning fire to his words, and he told her all this with the most confident of smiles. She listened, fascinated, for it was her one introduction to the power games.

He wanted to become the Merchant Prince, the head of the dozens of trading companies of Britain, the hand constantly grasping the neck of the country's economic flow.

Once he had told Laine, he spoke freely of the topic, and everyone knew of his aspirations. They had begun the rounds of calculations that would carry on into later lives, and they pondered Zabini more than any except Malfoy.

In the meantime, they mostly forgot the Gryffindors, except for Laine. Times came when they behaved so outrageously that the others were forced to take notice and, often as not, retaliate. Draco preferred not to, but the urge was strong and he felt his own superiority. Even stronger was Weasley's marked _inferiority_. But…he managed to forget them, unless they made their presence. And then it was war.

As for Laine, she couldn't deny her love for her friends, but the tiniest of lingering thoughts slipped about her mind like the winding, twisting fall of ribbons. The perpetual what if. She had seen with her own eyes the sort of person Potter, boy hero was, but she hated to simplify. What if the other Gryffindors were better?

What if…what if…

The first year ended, and the Slytherins swallowed the bitter injustice of the House cup in the face of their screaming, cheering opponents. Already they sensed the taint of prejudice, sinuous and evil. The prejudice of the professors, Dumbledore, the rest of the school turned against them. But what could they do, but accept it and move on?

Draco and Laine emerged head to head as second and third in the class, respectively; only Hermione Granger ranked above them. At the Malfoy manor, Lucius noted that briefly but said little more. It was apparent to both of them that he was preoccupied with events at hand, the failed rising of the Dark Lord, the infamous luck of one Harry Potter…

Still, they spent a pleasurable summer, mostly on the Malfoy estates but occasionally flitting between the summer chateaux of old family friends. And always, whether they were on the lonely beaches of Normandy, or the coastline of sun-soaked Nice, or the countryside in earthy, rustic Tuscany, always there was Draco's silvery laugh. Perhaps the students in school despised him and Blaise for their easy confidence, but Laine tended to build her radiant joy upon theirs. She responded with the same manner, the same bearing, the same confidence.

Towards the end of holiday, she had even found the time to visit her own lands. She heard her footsteps melting into the silence; she saw the house elves running up to meet her in the main hallways. Pride, fierce and passionate, swept over her heart as her eyes swept over everything that would one day be hers and that she swore she would return to. Laine had felt the surge of emotion in Draco whenever they stepped into the recesses of the Malfoy estates, but she could not understand his attachment to something so dead. And now, just now did she reach the epiphany. The house, the grounds were alive with a potent magic―the undercurrent that ran quick and strong in her very blood.

But that day, the chairs were empty, and the faintest scent of decay hung in the air. Then she had to leave, bidding the land an unspoken farewell.

From behind, Lucius smiled slightly as he watched the heiress and the Goldwing house.

* * *

School began again in September, and by then the family could adhere to a schedule that afforded no time for mishaps. But in all reality, neither that year, nor the one that followed excited them. They knew their places well and strived only to maintain them, because the real world demanded the attention that could not be squandered on little things.

There were whispers in the highest circles that gathered in the lowest places, hushed voices that hinted at a violent rebirth of their Lord in the near future. Lucius occasionally graced these meetings with his attendance, looking supremely confident and unconcerned through them all. In the privacy of the Manor, though, he spent long hours watching over the lush green slopes through the window of his study. He inhaled deeply, and he smelled the prickling scent of revolution, of unstoppable change. He knew that he would take part in it, and when the sepulchral figure of the Dark Lord rose from the draught of the dead, he knew that he himself had made it possible with a murmur of consent twenty years ago.

Who was the Malfoy, who thought that he could interfere with what had already passed?

In the meantime, his heart swelled with an invisible pride whenever Draco's intense, brilliant gaze met his eyes. It was also true for Laine, to a lesser extent, but nothing even remotely compared to the fierce animal joy of seeing his son, the man-child of his own blood and flesh grow into a leader he would have obeyed without question.

As such, Lucius did not hesitate to intervene in school incidents, while professors and students alike gossiped about the ridiculous amount of influence he had over Draco's school life. But he bore it by refusing them the dignity of a reaction…and Draco dealt with it on his own, in his own manner. It was a manner that belied what he _could_ do, for Lucius had impressed it upon him the reasons for seeming insignificant, weak, pathetic.

* * *

The world was wrong when a shapeless, ruddy face presided over the rolling hills, the glittering cities, the flowing magic of all Britain. Natural law dictated that the void be filled, and soon people exchanged fluttery gossip about the tall, straight, shadowed figure standing a full head above Cornelius Fudge. The man commanded respect and attention, all that Fudge struggled to achieve. He asked few favors and returned even fewer, but the usual political speculators dared not gamble on his actions. After all, he was Lucius Malfoy, not to be questioned.

The same figure drummed his hands on polished mahogany desks, then raised the black robes of the Dark Lord to his impartial lips. He watched the torture of the Potter boy and the subsequent rebirth of the monster to whom he owed fealty. And he made a surprise appearance in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic as well…

But even the luck of the Malfoy runs out eventually.

Soon he found himself being promenaded through the halls as a prisoner compelled to speak to any petty official who wanted a share of the spoils. Calmly, cynically he answered their questions, if only to shut them up for a few minutes. He was always checking the silver watch on his wrist, too; it informed him that time was drawing to an end. He could hold on for so much longer, and then―and then they would be on their own.

They already knew, but he doubted that they had seriously considered all possibilities. It was summer, and they would be returning soon, returning to a place that was theirs by right, not for any of the Ministry bastards to take away.

AN: I don't know what I think about this—short? It's just an interlude to cross the five years or so between the sections of the fanfiction. Review away and I'll see what I can do about writing faster.

l8er  
-cybErdrAgOn


	12. Chapter Twelve: Before the Storm

Chapter Twelve: Before the Storm

_A disaster, there was no other way to state it. And also impossible. Lucius Malfoy, how could it be? The Ministry respected him. The Dark Lord favored him. The commoners feared him. Yet all these factors could not prevent the mortal wound struck by Harry Potter and his crowd. All these factors could not cushion the fall._

_But there was never supposed to be one._

The carriage jerked up and down over the rocks in the path, sending uncomfortable jolts through Draco's concentration, if it could be called that. He stared at the sateen wall ahead, back straight, face perfectly still. On the other side of the seat was Laine, similarly poised but less dangerous, more uneasy. He could not blame her, because he understood her and vice versa, but the frigid silence chilled him to the bone on this first day of summer.

It marked the first time a servant had taken them home. Father was somewhat…preoccupied at the moment (he hated the word), and Mother (Narcissa) had never cared enough to leave the Manor for anything but parties. The house elves were incapable of driving a carriage, and he had no idea of how to transport himself. So in the end, everything was perfectly logical, yes, but unsatisfying.

What was illogical was how it had ever happened. The emerald carpeted hills spoke of lush, languid days and charmed nights, when the lords supposedly walked with their ladies fair to gaze across the vastness of their estates. He simply could not force himself to believe; a Malfoy did not believe on pure faith, yet he could put all of his faith in one being, one man, one strong pillar that could never give way. And yet…the one certainty in his life had bowed, bent double. His head pounded with the enormity of the situation, even as cool gray eyes looked on calmly.

And he let logic and reason succumb to the jumble of thoughts threatening to spill forth.

He let the deluge come, he let it crash over him like the incoming tide and batter his tired body into submission. No longer were his eyes seeing the world; they were lost in a world of his own making. At one point, Laine opened her mouth to speak to him and promptly closed it again, either out of fear or maybe respect. She saw more than the figure half slumped in a velvet seat, because she felt almost the same way.

"We've arrived."

They were not the words of his father, who considered the use of unnecessary contractions to be distasteful. Reluctantly, Draco followed Laine out of the carriage and then followed the servant inside. It was a servant whose doddering, graceless frame swept open the double doors and ushered them inside; who commanded the elves to bring the trunks in and called Narcissa downstairs. Even though she'd be preoccupied.

* * *

"Draco…" she purred, glancing at him carelessly. "How _are_ you?" 

He stiffened in the chair, surveyed the parlor, and only then turned to look at his darling mother. "Fine, and you?" And he made a particular effort to ignore the man whose arm encircled her back.

That was the third one in a week, or maybe even the fourth. After a while, Draco decided to stop the tally, figuring that his mother's lovers were hers, to do with as she pleased. He asked simply that he not come into contact with them, but he still shuddered when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, how Mr. Someone snaked his hand around to trace the sleek lines of her waist.

"Have you met Mr. Flint yet? Lester, this is my son, by the way," added Narcissa, with a hint of contempt. Draco recognized it as such but nodded anyway. Then he looked at the older man's marred face and slouched figure and wondered a few things, just for a moment.

But all he did was uncross his legs and stand up. "Excuse me," he muttered, "I think I'll go outside…to breathe some real air." Before sauntering out, he presented a look of angelic innocence to their turned backs. Doubtless they would enjoy their privacy far more than he enjoyed their obvious affection.

Early the next morning, a common brown owl deposited its letter into the Malfoy's marble mail receptacle. It was strikingly out of place in this cool, ancient land.

* * *

Padding through the silent halls, the house-elf carried the pile of mail to the breakfast table, where another elf had already prepared coffee, toast, and slices of sizzling bacon. Turning, it saw a tall figure descend the staircase and darted over. 

"Master Malfoy," greeted the house-elf with a bow.

Draco nodded and sat down at the table, riffling through the letters and sorting them by recipient. Most were for his father and would be set aside, a few for Narcissa…

"Laine, you have Ministry mail." He looked across his plate and handed it to her, before starting on the toast. Laine, though, immediately tore open the flimsy paper and finished reading with a somewhat annoyed expression.

She ate half her breakfast in silence and looked up only when Draco's disjointed voice came toward her. "I need a carriage to take me to the Arch today, and from there, I'll be going to the Ministry," she replied, sipping the unsweetened coffee. "They've finally decided to close the investigations on my…late parents." Her brows furrowed as she spoke the words, foreign and rusty in her mouth after five years of disuse.

"The Ministry?" Draco snapped out of his unusual daze and he looked at her with equally unusual intensity. "Hotbed of enemies, bureaucrats, and traitors." Then he shrugged. "Jacques wouldn't mind driving again, he hasn't done so for four years or so."

Everything went like a dream. Yes, everything, despite the maniacal laughter on the Knight Bus, the unease of the few Muggles she had passed, the frequent moods of the weather that threatened to wreak havoc on her chartreuse silken summer robes. With only a little trouble, she found the telephone booth and dialed herself underneath London, into the Ministry Atrium.

What struck her at first was the screaming, crass opulence. The light gleamed off the cherry wood floor, the rows of golden fireplaces, the blue ceiling above, leaving no shadows but creating a sense of weight as if all the gold were dragging down the very walls. Despite the vastness of space, the false splendor cramped whatever redeeming qualities might have shone through. As she walked into the center of the Atrium, Laine narrowed her eyes very slightly, careful to look directly ahead. The overall impression of the Ministry of Magic did not reassure her. It drew a spasm of nausea to her stomach.

She was a slender, straight-backed figure, cool green cutting through a sea of stifling, buttery gold. Alone, she looked smaller, and the clicking of her shoes echoed softly in the emptiness.

Though she had no guardian, she passed through security calmly and descended to Level Two within seconds. A few secretaries flashed her odd looks, but most were too busy to interfere. Laine paused at the end of one carpeted hallway, where a sign flashing, "End of tour," marked the entrance to Auror Headquarters.

There was no door, and she could see deep into the mess of cubicles, desks, and papers that formed wizarding Britain's magical defense force. In one corner, two Aurors were taking an extended lunch break and spending it, along with their gold, on a game of poker. From one of their sleeves, an ace of spades fluttered to the ground, and the other Auror slammed a fist on the table and sent the rest of the cards scattering.

_Honestly_, she thought with a smirk, _I would never have imagined that our law enforcement employs card sharks. Not even real con men._

She looked up as a shadow fell across her, tilting her chin to meet the beefy Auror's eyes. "Your name and purpose?" he growled, training a wand at the center of her forehead.

Utterly unimpressed but nervous, she made a short bow. Only the flickering of her dark eyes betrayed the sense of unease and wariness. So…so what to do now? What would Draco do, if he weren't in the current state of stony despondence?

There was nothing but to follow instructions. "My name," she began slowly, "is―"

"Ah, I've been waiting for you," a young woman cut in. "Follow me." To the other Auror, she added, "No need for security, it's all been arranged."

They left the cubicles and entered a well-furnished office, the door closing after them. A large, polished desk sat in the center of the room, and two leather chairs were situated on either side. There were even the requisite leafy tropical plants in the corner farthest from the exit, though the woman sneezed constantly as soon as she neared them.

The woman ushered her into the chair, but as soon as Laine was about to accept, a back door opened. She watched, increasingly apprehensive, as two more Ministry men filed inside. One caught her attention, particularly the shocks of rough, sandy hair topping his hollow face. But a few moments passed by before she remembered the man's name.

Laurentius Nott.

She felt the sweep of his gaze until it turned to the woman, who offered her a polite smile. "My name is Nymphadora Tonks, and I've been called to close up your parents' last case. The Ministry has a few questions that should be answered, though, and you're in the best position to answer them." Irate, the woman glared at Nott briefly, then forced on the charmingly restrained demeanor again. "I'm afraid it'll be a long afternoon…so would you like a drink before we start?"

Accepting the offer, Laine drank from a crystal glass of water and when somewhat more comfortable, nodded gently. The hard edge on the woman's face faded into an unassuming expression. _Just a question and answer session_, Laine reminded herself, eyes softening of their own accord. With a trace of a smile, she leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs.

"Just for record-keeping purposes, let's start with the basics," said Nymphadora briskly. "Your name, age, and place of residence?"

Nearly laughing, she marveled at the inanity of the questioning. "My name is Laine Callida Malfoy, age sixteen, and I currently reside in the Malfoy Manor," replied Laine, the words coming forth automatically.

To her right, Nott froze. With much trouble, he leaned forward, then made a few notes in a leather notepad. When Laine noticed him a few seconds later, the brown-haired woman shook her head. "It's nothing, so let's continue." Somehow it made perfect sense, and she made a sound of agreement.

""How did you arrive at…at the Malfoys?"

After that, there was:

"What relation did they have with the Malfoys?"

_What were the terms of your parents' will?_

_What happened immediately after you arrived at the Malfoys?_

At the last question, Laine paused and closed her eyes to think. One of her white hands, trembling slightly, ran through locks of dark hair over and over as she racked her mind for the answers. It was evading her, just within reach but still in an impregnable fog. The answer was close and to be found in her own mind. In her own mind. In her own mind…

Finally her lips cracked into a faint smile, before opening to speak. She felt them move to form words but heard nothing, even as her head snapped into the back of the leather chair.

She woke up in the carriage, inhaling the crisp morning air that seeped through the walls and windows. Speeding through the countryside, she surmised that she was already in the Malfoy land again, and not the Ministry offices…

As she walked into the manor, she gathered up the mail and began flipping through it before making it halfway through the main hall. The Daily Prophet caught her eye, and she set the rest to the side. Eyes darting quickly over the cover page, they suddenly stopped on the headline news.

There she was. Smiling vapidly, staring into the face of one Nymphadora Tonks, it was undeniably Laine Callida Malfoy whose soulless calm decorated the front of the wizarding world's premier newspaper, under the brazen title "Lucius Malfoy―the Truth Revealed."

It was brilliant journalism, and journalism was the last thing in her mind.

* * *

_So she was home__, and an awkward homecoming she had received. _The sound of the door opening had alerted him, but he could sense every motion of hers either way. A skill that came in handy once in a while. 

Upon seeing him, she had been near hysterics, full of apologies and storms and little girl gestures. And Lucius Malfoy, the man with whose name she was helping the Prophet to sell an extra thousand copies, had smiled ever so lightly once she had reverted to her straight, composed bearing again. He had not, however, used his own power to draw her panic away. By now, Laine was more than competent enough to control her state of mind.

Now they were at the same table where she and Draco had taken breakfast for the past few weeks, and Narcissa felt sufficiently cowed to shut herself alone in the master bedroom.

Leaning back, Lucius allowed a ghostly amusement onto his face. "Some would argue that you deserve to die." His voice was soft and probing as it tickled her weaknesses. "Some would never excuse such disloyalty in the face of a little pressure."

In the silence that followed, he watched the flickering suspicion in her very black eyes and saw a hint of Draco, a hint of himself, and a vast part of some quality all her own. Despite the outward calm, she was still very much unsettled like a bowstring drawn to its full extent.

In that silence, he took in every inch of the girl who had ruined any of the remaining chances, a girl who had known the Kin for a fraction of the time the others had been privileged to. Her hands rested in her lap, and they were twisted but restrained. Every so often, a nervous shiver traversed the length of her spine, though her face defied such physical tension.

He decided not to bend her further, not at all interested in destroying her and making her snap.

"You were unprepared, and so these events…" he dragged a finger across the Prophet and said with some difficulty, "they were inevitable." Pleased that no gust of relief rushed through her, Lucius lifted a pair of mirrored silver eyes to bring a halt to time, so that he could finish. "Avoid it in the near future."

Was it a lie? As Laine bowed her head, he did not hold her back from sweeping onto the grounds and disappearing into one of the little clearings in the woods. For a moment, Lucius' gaze traveled with her, soaking in every detail of the land, _his land_. It had a beauty he had sensed but not seen before…and it was about to fall around his children's feet.

When he had said it was inevitable, he was referring to more than one desperate girl sitting before him.

He turned just as Draco reached the foot of the wide staircase―Draco his child and his heir. With all the distance between them, they stood still and ran two pairs of grey eyes over each other, and only when Draco had ascertained that it was his father did he approach.

Wordlessly they walked outside, basking in the rare glory of the summer day with a fervent emotion that few commoners could hope to understand. It was an emotion borne of life and pride and conquest, and these experiences had fallen into disuse after thousands of years. But here, tradition was sacred. The Malfoy and the Apexis were moving onto greater plans without discarding what they had already achieved.

At the bank of a small stream, Draco stopped. "She…she's a traitor," he breathed harshly, while narrowed grey eyes stared into the far distance. "It should not have been so."

There was a pause.

"It was inevitable…"

The same words he had given to Laine, Lucius now passed to his son. The rise and fall of his chest came in short, abrupt jerks, and Lucius knew―understood, rather―the rampant thoughts in his mind.

How difficult it was to tell Draco that nothing more could have been done, a fact that appeared too much like an excuse for his own sensibilities. While he understood what had happened, that the Prophet had not described, Draco would understand only the old ideas. However, these also dictated that he refrain from any acts threatening to compromise the already delicate situation at hand. Delicate, like the symmetry of clouds in the sky, and every bit as changeable.

"From such a grave mistake, let her grow strong."

Whirling around, Draco lifted a face filled with passion, fury, and confusion, and he shook his head in a great effort. Blond locks fell aside; he was fighting instinct with knowledge; he was struggling not to collapse.

Lucius watched him, waiting implacably until the swell of forbidden emotion had subsided. Ah, youth, only interspersed with cold cynicism, was dangerous, but Draco had not let himself completely loose. If he had…well, he had not yet become the Malfoy Lord, but the magic of the land flowed in every drop of his noble blood.

"Father―I'd never have imagined all this…"

The wind tousled his white-gold hair and made him look all the more compelling, almost reckless. After a moment, he turned away, embarrassed and disquieted.

Ever so gracefully, Lucius placed a hand on his son's shoulder, sending pulses of fierce pride through the fragile physical touch, even though he did not grip any more tightly than if it had been a casual gesture of approval. As he locked onto his father's gaze again, Draco blinked once, then closed his eyes.

"Never imagine events, thinking about them is nearly always sufficient," stated Lucius, a lazy overtone in his voice muffling the incisive words. Then it cooled and became serious, rich with power. "But as long as I am capable of it, I will protect the Kin, the land, and our lives. They will not claim what is not their right to take."

He nodded, and the two of them stood there a while longer to savor the fading taste of beauty and peace. For though the Malfoy were conquerors, they also had a healthy appreciation for life and living, not death and decay. And this place, it was the source of life, to be preserved, loved, and esteemed like none other.

AN: This chapter was incredibly fun to write, once I got started. Hope it was as good to read.


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